


it's shaking the sky and i'm following lightning

by 1dspoon (teaspoon)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Elemental Magic, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Sexual Identity, Superpowers, Touch Dependence, mentions of past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4321107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoon/pseuds/1dspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer 2014. Liam and Zayn meet under extraordinary circumstances, fall in love, and help save London from total destruction. Featuring elemental superpowers, touch dependence, mutual pining, and OT5 friendship.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <i>When Liam comes to, the air around him smells like ozone and crackles with a sharp energy that makes the hairs on his arms stand up. His mouth is dry and tastes like rust. The bus shelter is still standing, but only just, the plastic warped and mangled around the metal scaffolding holding it up. The rain’s stopped.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He looks to his right and counts the people around him: one, two, three other lads. He remembers a fourth person, dark hair up in a wilting quiff and the longest eyelashes he’s ever seen on anyone, boy or girl. Liam turns his head to the left and looks down and there he is, lying unconscious on the pavement, with Liam’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. It comes back to him suddenly, the way he’d grabbed for the boy in the split second before the lightning hit the pole above them, pulling him back before they were knocked flat by the strike anyway.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's shaking the sky and i'm following lightning

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to my alpha reader [bunnymcfoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymcfoo), to my beta readers [balefully](http://archiveofourown.org/users/balefully) and [rossetti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rossetti), and to [lazy_daze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_daze) for the Britpick. You're all invaluable and amazing!

When Liam comes to, the air around him smells like ozone and crackles with a sharp energy that makes the hairs on his arms stand up. His mouth is dry and tastes like rust. The bus shelter is still standing, but only just, the plastic warped and mangled around the metal scaffolding holding it up. The rain’s stopped.

He looks to his right and counts the people around him: one, two, three other lads. He remembers a fourth person, dark hair up in a wilting quiff and the longest eyelashes he’s ever seen on anyone, boy or girl. Liam turns his head to the left and looks down and there he is, lying unconscious on the pavement, with Liam’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. It comes back to him suddenly, the way he’d grabbed for the boy in the split second before the lightning hit the pole above them, pulling him back before they were knocked flat by the strike anyway. His ears are buzzing with white noise, like a radio signal gone to static. He shakes the boy gently with both hands, praying that he’s not dead. He feels the others crowd in behind him and when one of them speaks, it sounds like it’s coming down a tunnel.

“Check he’s breathing?”

Liam finally registers the words and puts the back of his hand under the boy’s nose, feels reassuring little whiffs of air and nods. “Yeah.” He shakes the boy’s shoulder again, a little bit more firmly this time, and when he stirs, Liam’s whole body sighs with relief.

The boy’s long lashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks, looking impossibly thick and soft.

“Hey mate, you alright?” A voice says over Liam’s shoulder. He turns to look at him, a sharp-faced boy with bright blue eyes, features softened by concern.

The boy on the ground sits up slowly with a wince, but he nods. “Think so. What the fuck was that, eh?”

The lads behind him laugh, hushed and relieved, three different pitches and timbres that ring in Liam’s ears. He doesn’t laugh, his heart still thudding sharply behind his sternum, his skin crawling with excess energy.

“That was a really near miss, weren’t it? I’m Louis,” the boy at Liam’s shoulder says in a Yorkshire lilt, offering his hand for the boy on the ground.

He slaps at Louis' palm, more of a sideways high five than a handshake, and offers a shaky smile. “I’m Zayn.”

Zayn is dishevelled and his face is wan, ashen under the golden tone of his skin. For lack of a better word, he’s beautiful.

Liam turns around when the other two boys introduce themselves: Niall is bleach blond and Irish and Harry has long curly hair tucked up under a beanie. He turns back, still anxious about Zayn, who was stood closest to where the lightning struck.

“What about you, grabby hands?” Zayn sounds like he’s from somewhere up North as well, and he’s looking straight at Liam, who can feel himself turn the colour of beetroot.

“It’s Liam.”

“I’m only joking,” Zayn says, quiet like he doesn’t want the others to overhear. “Thanks, you know, for pulling me out the way.”

Liam nods and gets to his feet, only hesitating for a moment before he offers Zayn a hand up. It’s slightly awkward, all of them milling about, not knowing what to do next.

Niall breaks the silence that’s settled around them. “Hate to break it to you lads, but I don’t think the bus is coming.”

They all come to life then, low chuckles and murmurs of assent.

“I don’t live that far,” Harry offers. “I was only planning to get the bus because it was raining and I don’t have an umbrella, so I didn’t fancy getting soaked through on the way home. It’s probably only about ten minutes walking.”

It feels like it takes him a long time to finish speaking, and Liam wonders if that’s a side effect from the lightning or if Harry’s just a naturally slow talker. He’s never really heard much about people who were near a lightning strike, just the ones who were unfortunate enough to be hit by it directly. All of them appear to be fine, besides being a bit spooked, and it would be nice to get somewhere indoors now that it’s nearing sunset.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Louis says, and it’s clear that he’s the de facto leader of the bunch, taking to the role like he was born for it. “Which way, Harry?”

Harry looks pleased to be useful, a small smile flickering across his face as he gestures ahead down the road the way the bus would go. “That way, and then we turn left by the old cemetery.”

The walk takes thirteen minutes. Liam notices because he checked his watch as they started to see if it was still working, and again when they reach the house. All their mobile phones are fried; Zayn murmurs something about an electromagnetic pulse, which seems reasonable to Liam.

“My mum and stepdad are in France for the month,” Harry explains as he puts the key in the lock. “We can check the news and see if it’s like, safe for you lot to go home. If not, you can stay the night, it’s no bother.”

“Thanks, Harry. That’s really decent of you,” Niall says, cheerful as anything.

“S’nothing.” Harry waves off the thanks, but his shoulders go up a little and a dimple pops out in his left cheek, all his emotions so close to the surface that Liam wonders how he goes around like that all the time. He pushes open the door and lets them parade past him, one after the other, before he shuts it behind them. “Home sweet home.”

The house is big and looks lived in, cheerful clutter taking up all the space on the shelves and the mantelpiece over the fireplace. He spots pictures of Harry at every age, along with a girl who could only be his sister, the two of them sharing the same smile as their mum. Liam feels distinctly uncomfortable, like he’s trespassing, and he folds his hands in front of him so he doesn’t accidentally touch anything.

The television comes to life and Liam startles, taking a step backwards into Zayn’s space.

“You’re alright,” Zayn says, patting him on the back before turning towards the telly.

The newsreader on Sky News advises that people remain indoors, as thunderstorms will continue through the next day, with a risk of flooding in certain areas. Liam tries to remember if he left any windows open in his flat, wonders if Andy and Maz are alright.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover tonight,” Louis announces, once they’ve had their fill of the news. It’s just after ten but it feels much later.

“Wicked,” Harry says. “There’s three beds, and someone can share with me in my parents’ room, it’s a king size. The settee’s pretty comfortable, actually, I kip out here sometimes while I’m watching telly.”

Liam volunteers to take the sofa, not wanting to make a fuss when Harry’s being so kind, letting them all crash here even though they’re complete strangers he met at the bus stop.

“Cool. I don’t think we’re supposed to use the shower in case there’s more lightning, just be quick about it when you use the sink to like, brush your teeth and stuff.” Harry wanders off to find spare toothbrushes, leaving the other four in the lounge.

“Can you believe the day we’ve had?” Niall asks. “Started off normal apart from the rain, and then we nearly get scorched off the earth by lightning. Now we’re camping out at someone’s house we just met. Mental.”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, but it worked out pretty well, really. I’m a good forty-five minutes away on foot, so I’d still be walking if Harry hadn’t offered.”

They all look out the window, where the rain has started up again, coming down in sheets over the back garden.

“Yeah, and none of you seems like a total perv or a nutter, so I reckon we got quite lucky.” Louis flashes a grin around the room.

When Harry gets back, he hands out toothbrushes and then offers up the landline for them to call their parents and flatmates. They find out quickly that none of them remembers their friends’ numbers, so they have to use the computer to retrieve them. In the meantime, they start chatting about their studies, where they’re from, the usual getting-to-know-you sort of stuff.

There are two bathrooms upstairs, it turns out. When they start getting ready for bed, Louis and Niall follow Harry into the en suite off the master bedroom, leaving Zayn and Liam to the other bathroom down the hall. Liam brushes his teeth thoroughly, careful not to meet Zayn’s eyes in the mirror. He still feels residual embarrassment over regaining consciousness to find himself practically holding Zayn’s hand, and he’s grateful that Zayn wasn’t awake for it and that none of the boys have said anything. He wonders if maybe they’re honestly not bothered about it.

All five of them wind up saying goodnight in the middle of the hallway after Harry gives Liam a spare duvet and a pillow. He’s got his arms full of them when everyone else starts slapping hands, that careless, boyish greeting that Liam still hasn’t quite mastered.

“Goodnight, everybody.” Harry draws out the syllables, almost singsong as he goes into his parents’ room, followed by Niall.

“Night,” Louis echoes, disappearing into Harry’s bedroom.

Zayn looks softer in the dim light, amber eyes flashing like a cat’s until he blinks. “Night, Liam.”

“Night.” He turns and shuffles back downstairs to the lounge, forcing himself not to look back over his shoulder.

***

The house is quiet, and Zayn is acutely aware of the fact that he’s not at his. He’s used to more street noise, Ant listening to music at all hours, the creaky hinges on Danny’s bedroom door. His skin still feels prickly, almost like the slow-blooming itch of sunburn, and he wonders if that’s a possible side effect of lightning strike. It makes his breath catch a bit, thinking about what a close call it was: the light that cracked the sky, the grip of a hand on his arm, Liam’s face the last thing he saw before he shut his eyes against the moment of impact. He dozes off thinking about the shy way Liam avoided his gaze in the bathroom, his bitten-down nails and long fingers wrapped around his toothbrush. Zayn was a shy kid himself until uni, is still reserved around strangers, but the way Liam holds himself around them makes his chest ache in sympathy.

He must fall asleep for a while, because he jolts awake when the pain starts, a sharp, insistent pressure at his temples that resounds through his skull. His skin feels stretched too tight, his joints aching like he’s put in a punishing workout. As the pain intensifies, it actually hurts to breathe. He stumbles from the bed, thinking there might be painkillers in the bathroom, aspirin or paracetamol, something to take the edge off the pain radiating through his body. Standing makes it worse, though, and Zayn leans unsteadily against the doorframe as vertigo sets in. He thinks he might have to make it to the bathroom so he can be sick instead, so he pushes through the dizziness, fumbling blindly down the hallway, one hand against the wall.

A noise startles him into looking up, just a moment before a body nearly crashes into him. He puts out his hands to brace the other person, who lets out a quiet ‘whoomph’ noise upon impact.

“Liam?” Zayn says in a loud whisper, hoping the other boys are sound sleepers.

Liam meets his eyes, confusion written clearly across his face in the light that filters in from the bay window by the stairs. “Zayn?”

He’s about to explain why he’s awake and stumbling around the house when he realises that the pain is receding, pulling away like the tide. In the absence of pain, he’s suddenly conscious of all the places they’re touching: his palms grounded against Liam’s bare chest, Liam’s fingers wrapped warm and tight around Zayn’s forearms.

“I… It really hurt,” Liam whispers. “But uh, now it doesn’t.”

Zayn’s forehead wrinkles as he frowns. “Yeah. Same, like. That’s weird.”

“Maybe it’s the lightning. Like some sort of nerve damage? I dunno if the others have it too.”

“Maybe.” He takes a deep breath, embarrassed when the exhale comes out shuddery and loud. “Erm.” He looks down at their hands.

Liam follows his gaze and then drops Zayn’s arms like he’s been burned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, face screwed up in obvious distress.

“You don’t have to…” Zayn starts, but then his head starts throbbing again, this time from the base of his skull. “Fuck,” he swears between gritted teeth, cupping his head protectively with both hands. It takes him a minute to notice that Liam is wincing too, hand still clamped behind his neck, teeth set hard into the plushness of his lower lip.

The pain shoots down Zayn’s spine and he lurches forward, doubling over with the intensity of it. Liam puts out a steadying hand, folding his fingers around Zayn’s biceps, and when he looks up again, Liam looks perplexed but not pained. The throbbing in his head stops again, as abruptly as it started, and he straightens up, staring into Liam’s dark eyes.

“Let go of my arm for a sec,” Zayn says, low and serious. Liam lets go slowly, fingertips peeling away from Zayn’s skin and leaving it feeling colder where his hand was.

For a second, nothing happens, but then the headache flares up again, his skin prickling like it had earlier. He measures time in the crashing thuds of his heartbeat, the pain ramping up in the space of four beats. His knees threaten to give out, and he reaches for Liam’s hand, chasing a hunch as he clutches at the other boy.

“Oh,” Liam breathes out. “It’s stopped.”

“This is going to sound mental but… I think it stops when we’re touching, like.” Zayn knows how insane it sounds, like some sort of comic book power gone wrong, or a curse from a fairytale, but anecdotal evidence so far seems to point in that direction.

“Yeah, when we let go it hurt, and then. Right now it doesn’t hurt.” Liam gives Zayn’s hand a little squeeze and then looks stricken, as if he didn’t mean to do it.

Zayn speaks quickly, glossing over the moment before Liam can take it too much to heart. “I don’t… I’ve no idea why it’s happening but I don’t fancy another round of that tonight, so maybe. Maybe we could stick together for now?”

Liam looks down at their hands. “Yeah, that’s alright. I mean, that really hurt, so.”

Now that the pain’s been gone for a few minutes, Zayn’s aware of how tired he is still, feeling the weight of interrupted sleep in his bones. “Do you… I think we’ll both fit in the bed in Harry’s sister’s room if you don’t mind. I mean, I’m just really sleepy.”

There’s a moment of hesitation and Zayn’s afraid he’s going to have to coax Liam into it, but then Liam nods and lets Zayn lead the way back to the bedroom.

It feels strangely intimate, crawling into bed still holding hands, dragging Liam under the covers after him. Zayn’s shared a bed with boys before, both for innocent reasons and not, but never under such bizarre circumstances. Liam is obviously nervous, lying stiffly on his side with his fingers dutifully linked with Zayn’s but not touching him anywhere else. He doesn’t seem like one of those guys who would make jokes about backdoors and yell ‘no homo’ when their hands brushed while walking near each other, not like some of the lads he knew in secondary school, but Zayn can’t imagine why else he’d be so uncomfortable about it, even though they don’t exactly know each other well.

“Listen, if this is a problem for you. Like if you don’t want to hold hands with me 'cause you think it’s gay or something –” Zayn starts to say.

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Liam interrupts, shaking his head so his hair rustles against the pillowcase. “I don’t have a problem with it, it’s just… strange, you know?”

Zayn blinks at him muzzily, trying to wrap his head around what he’s saying as sleep threatens to pull him under. “Okay, well. If it’s not a problem, then I’m gonna.” He yawns loudly, and then pats Liam’s shoulder reassuringly with his free hand. “Goodnight again, Liam.”

Just before he drifts into unconsciousness, he hears Liam’s soft reply and feels the warmth of his breath ghost across the space between their faces. “Goodnight, Zayn.”

***

Liam wakes up feeling warm and safe, and his first thought is that he’s at his parents’ house and his dog has crept into the bed again. He reaches out with his eyes closed and rubs his knuckles over what should be Brit’s flank, but he feels skin instead. He blinks rapidly, waking up, and last night comes rushing back to him. The backs of his fingers are pressed against Zayn’s arm, just over where he has a tattoo of a bandana in the crook of his elbow. He looks down and gets distracted by the rest of his ink on his forearm, a comic book style ‘ZAP!’ that makes him tuck a smile against his own shoulder.

It takes him a full minute to recognise that he’s still holding onto Zayn’s hand, fingers loosely clasped and a little bit sweaty. He takes deep breaths, trying not to panic over the fact that he’s just woken up next to an – objectively – extremely attractive bloke that he may or may not have to keep touching in order to stave off excruciating pain. He can only imagine what Andy or Maz would say if they knew. Liam’s pretty sure even Ben, who he’s never heard using ‘gay’ or any of its less pleasant synonyms as an insult, wouldn’t be able to resist taking the piss.

Just to make things ten times more embarrassing, Liam’s rolled closer in the night, so that his hips are maybe an inch or two away from Zayn’s, and as is usual for a nineteen-year-old boy, he’s half hard against his own thigh. He curses the fact that he’d stripped down to just his boxers before cocooning himself in the duvet on the sofa last night. After a few moments of internal debate, he decides that he should probably test whether the whole it-hurts-when-we’re-not-touching thing is still an issue, and he eases both hands away from Zayn’s skin. His fingers feel cold all of a sudden, and so does the rest of him when he carefully tiptoes out of bed and out into the hallway, into the bathroom for a wee. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when he feels nothing as he washes his hands and brushes his teeth.

Liam’s leaning over the sink to spit out a foamy mouthful of toothpaste when it hits him, a pang so sharp and sudden that he has to grip the counter with both hands to stop himself falling over. He leaves the toothbrush in the sink, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand as he jogs back to the bedroom where Zayn is, running mostly on instinct. His head twinges with each step and a rolling wave of nausea nearly winds him as he steps into the room.

Zayn lets out a low whine, curled in the middle of the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, hands braced behind his head. Liam hesitates at the end of the bed, the desire for relief warring with his cautiousness to touch another person without permission.

Zayn whimpers. “Fuck, Liam, please. Hurts.” He throws an arm out across the bed, palm upturned and fingers slightly curled, a half-bloomed flower.

Liam can’t say no to that. He takes Zayn’s hand, trying not to think about how natural it feels already, even apart from the fact that the pain starts receding as soon as their palms touch.

“I thought maybe I dreamt it,” he whispers, looking down at their joined hands.

“Nah, don’t think so.” Zayn’s voice is sleep roughened and when Liam chances a look at his face, he sees that his eyelashes are clumped together with moisture.

“Sorry,” he says.

“S’alright.” Zayn gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. “How long were you gone, do you think? Before it started up.”

Liam furrows his brow and tries to estimate how long he was out of bed. “Like, four or five minutes, maybe?”

“Good to know.” He pauses, considering. “Do you think it’s just our hands, or… I was touching your chest last night but you had your hands around my arms so like, I’m wondering what the rules are or whatever.”

It’s embarrassing that Liam’s immediate reaction to the idea of Zayn touching other parts of his body is to blush furiously. He wonders if maybe it’s worth enduring the headache and nausea not to deal with all of this, but he remembers Zayn’s forehead creased with pain, the hurt sound he made when he reached for Liam’s hand. He sits there, still and quiet, taking shallow sips of air through his nose.

Zayn lets go of Liam’s hand and touches the back of his wrist to Liam’s arm. Nothing happens. He gently presses the knobby point of his elbow to Liam’s side. Still nothing. He tugs Liam fully onto the bed, their ankles overlapping, his face blurry and too close.

“So far, so good,” Liam says. His voice comes out more strained than he wants it to, spread thin.

Zayn drops his forehead to Liam’s shoulder. His hair is soft, messy from rain and sleep, and it tickles Liam’s chin. The pain still hasn’t flared up, which means any bit of skin touching any other bit of skin seems to work.

“Do you think it works like, through our clothes?” he asks.

Liam already recognises Zayn’s thinking face.

“Might do.” His gaze sweeps over Liam, who’s still only in his boxers. “Put your hand on my shoulder?” he suggests.

Zayn’s t-shirt is worn and soft. Liam touches him with just the points of his thumb and two fingers, the barest pressure over fabric, skin, and bone. For a second, he can’t distinguish between the nausea that comes with not touching Zayn and the way his stomach swoops when Zayn’s eyes meet his. From this close, Liam is distracted by the unique colour of them: hazel with a ring of darker brown around the pupil. There’s a freckle in his left eye, just next to the iris.

“That seems to be alright, yeah?” Zayn’s voice breaks into his thoughts.

Liam nods. They stay like that for several breaths, not really waiting anymore. It’s barely noticeable at first, not the immediate onslaught that happens when they’re apart, but he soon notices a dull pain between his eyebrows, almost like the sinus headache he gets in the spring, when his hayfever is worst.

“Are you feeling that?” Zayn’s squinting at him like he’s trying to decide how bearable this level of discomfort is.

“Yeah, it’s not as bad but it’s. It’s not great.”

Zayn lets out a surprised little laugh and covers Liam’s hand with his own, pressing it more firmly against his shoulder. The headache subsides completely, and Zayn smiles at him, his tongue tucked up against his teeth. It’s a nice smile, and Liam’s stomach dips again. This time, he knows it’s not because he’s hurting.

“How are we gonna explain this to the other lads?” Zayn asks suddenly, like he’s just thought of it. “It sounds completely bonkers, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t believe it, if I was them. I’m not even sure I believe it.”

Liam’s struggling to come up with a response when he hears the door open.

“Oh.” Harry smirks at them. “If you had sex in my sister’s bed, you’re changing the sheets.”

Liam opens his mouth to protest, but he’s distracted when Zayn squeezes his wrist. He looks from Zayn to Harry, taking in Zayn’s half shy grin, the way he looks at Harry through his eyelashes.

Harry shakes his head. “Liam, you dirty boy. Didn’t know you had it in you. Anyway, we’re having breakfast. Come and have some eggs and bacon if you want.”

“Alright,” Zayn says, still looking like the cat that got the cream.

Liam feels like he’s missing something, can’t figure out what Zayn's game is.

As soon as Harry’s gone, Zayn laughs. “Your face, mate. Listen, I’m sorry to uh, cast aspersions on your virtue but well, if he thinks we’re shagging, then it won’t be weird for us to be touching each other, like?”

“Oh.” Liam’s face feels hot. On the one hand, he’s relieved that Zayn’s quick thinking made it so they don’t have to explain themselves to the others; on the other hand, that means letting them think that he and Zayn have had sex. What’s most confusing about it is how casual both Harry and Zayn are about it: both of them seem perfectly comfortable with the idea of two guys doing that. It makes Liam feel a bit of a knob for caring. It’s not that he even minds it, really, it’s just hard to wrap his head around it being so normal for other people.

“I’m not gay,” he says, almost apologetic about it.

“That’s alright, neither am I. I mean, I like guys and girls.” Zayn’s voice is low and calm, and his thumb brushes over the back of Liam’s hand, which makes it hard to focus on the meaning behind his words. “But if you’d rather, we can try to explain the truth to them. Either way, I know Niall a bit, actually. We had a course together and he’s cool. And I don’t think Louis’ll be bothered about it either.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, I mean. I can handle it. I think maybe we should try to figure out what it is, first. Before we involve anyone else.” He chews at the inside of his cheek. “I don’t mind about you, either, I’m not like that.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Zayn reassures him. His smile is small, but it seems genuine. Liam isn’t really sure why he’s being so nice to him, why he doesn’t mind that he’s being forced into this weird situation with Liam instead of one of the other boys or literally anyone else on earth. “Come on, we should get some food before they eat it all.”

***

“Weather’s getting worse,” Louis calls out to them as they walk into the lounge.

Zayn has his arm wrapped casually around Liam’s middle, warm skin touching all over, and it’s easy to school his face into an expression of slight smugness. Liam’s quite fit, is the thing: he’s taller and broader than Zayn and he’s got a lean frame in the process of filling out, muscle tone in his arms and legs like he knows what he’s doing when he goes to the gym, and a proper six-pack. He’s got a nice face, too, sweet and open even though he doesn’t seem to want it to be. He embarrasses easily, has a skittish animal quality to him that worries Zayn a little, but all in all, Zayn’s got every reason to be proud of having bagsied Liam, even if it’s only pretend.

He waits patiently while Liam picks up his t-shirt off the end of the settee, neatly folded on top of his jeans. Zayn moves his arm long enough for Liam to put it on: he pulls the t-shirt over his head, balancing it on his nose before he tugs it the rest of the way down. Zayn’s hand finds the back of his neck this time, and they walk over to the open plan kitchen, where the other lads are sat on barstools around the worktop.

Peering out the window, he sees that it’s true: the weather looks terrible, almost apocalyptic. Rain is lashing down, tree branches whipping in the wind, and there’s a bright flash of lightning. Less than fifteen seconds later, a thunderclap sounds, indicating that the storm is practically on top of them.

“Someone’s made Thor very, very angry,” he jokes.

Liam’s ears practically perk up like a puppy’s, but it’s Louis who speaks up first. “You an Avengers fan, mate?”

“Yeah. Comics and superheroes in general, but I like the Avengers.” Zayn’s wary of sounding too excited about it and giving away his true level of geekery before the other person shows their hand first.

“Me too,” Louis says, excitement written all over his face. “I can’t fucking wait for Age of Ultron. Guardians of the Galaxy’s out soon, at least.”

Zayn nods, rubbing his thumb over the nape of Liam’s neck. “What about you, Liam? You like the Avengers?”

A blush runs up the back of Liam’s neck to the tips of his ears, naked looking where the sides of his head are shorn into a fauxhawk. “Yeah, Iron Man is sick but uh, my favourite is Batman.”

“Iron Man’s the best,” Louis says, almost before Liam’s finished speaking.

“Yeah, he’s cool. I like the Hulk a lot from the comics, but they’ve not done right by him in a solo movie yet. Avengers has the best one so far, like I think Bruce Banner’s so much more interesting than just his origin story.” Zayn lets himself ramble a bit, still testing the waters because he doesn’t want to sound show-offy about the fact that he reads comic books on top of enjoying the movie adaptations.

“I can’t keep up with all the bloody reboots in the comics,” Louis complains. “And like, Batman. There are fifty titles or summat, it’s impossible.”

Liam nods, properly drawn into the conversation now. “I know, it’s tough to keep up. I’ve read like, more of the ‘80s and ‘90s Batman. Year One and the Killing Joke, a lot of Grant Morrison… Dark stuff, some of it.”

Zayn’s impressed, smiling up at the side of Liam’s face when he catches Niall’s eye. Niall shakes his head, chewing a mouthful of eggs and toast, clearly having lost the thread of the conversation. Zayn’s face scrunches up in a silent laugh.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry announces, serving up some eggs for Liam and Zayn. He gestures at the bacon, and Liam nods while Zayn shakes his head. “But I’m pretty sure you’re all stuck here for the time being.”

Niall pipes in, “The news said this could keep up for another couple of days. Lucky thing Harry took us in. I dunno if me flat even has enough supplies for this kind of thing. No warning for that first storm, either. Mental.”

Zayn makes sure their knees are touching under the table as they eat. It feels intimate, flirtatious, and he feels a little bad about the fact that he’s enjoying it when Liam’s made it clear that he’s not interested in guys.

To his surprise, no one says anything about Zayn and Liam while they finish eating. It’s not until after, when Harry shoots Zayn a look and says, “I think you two might want a shower. We all decided to risk it while you were still in bed.”

Louis lets out a hoot. “Yeah, you dirty, dirty slags. Planning to have a shower together? Saves water that way. Get in, Zayn.”

That last bit sounds congratulatory and a little impressed, and he puts out his fist for Zayn to bump, which Zayn does. It’s weird, the way Louis acts like they’re mates even though they barely know each other, but good weird. He grins crookedly, like he’s supposed to, and puts his arm around Liam’s shoulders. He’s pretty sure Liam is seconds from an embarrassment-related aneurysm, so he cuddles him a bit and says, “I reckon we’ll go do that, then.”

Niall’s laugh sounds like the happiest little goat bleating, and Zayn can’t help but find it endearing. “Be quick about it, will you? Don’t want to be under the spray if lightning hits the pipes.”

Louis hums his agreement. “I’d say that’s unlikely but after yesterday’s near miss it’d be a shame to tempt fate.”

“Alright, yeah, we won’t be long,” Zayn agrees, casting a sidelong gaze at Liam. It’s almost too easy to play along with it, act like he’s about to get Liam off in the shower when in reality he’s thinking about the fact that each of them will have about four minutes to get clean while the other waits.

“We don’t really have to get in together,” he tells Liam, once they’re in the bathroom with the lock turned. “You can go in first and I’ll wait, and then we can touch hands for to top up, like, and then I’ll go.”

Liam nods quickly, looking everywhere except at Zayn’s face. “Right, yeah.”

He turns around and pulls his t-shirt up over his head, as if Zayn hasn’t already seen him without his shirt, touched his bare chest. Zayn watches the way the muscles in his back move under the skin, the rise of his shoulder blades like folded wings, the curve of his spine down to the dimples at the base, just above his boxers. Liam hesitates with his thumbs hooked in his waistband, like he can feel Zayn’s eyes on him, and that’s when Zayn looks away, gives him a moment of privacy.

He hears Liam step over the edge of the tub and draw the curtain across the rail. It’s a old-fashioned claw-footed model, and the pipes squeak when Liam turns on the water, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the temperature.

“Hey,” he says. “Give me your hand for a second or you’ll only have a minute or two now. I mean, if it even works like that…” Zayn’s still not sure exactly what the rules are for this, but it’s definitely been a few minutes and the pain hasn’t set in yet. It’d be a shame for Liam to not even be able to get clean before it does, though.

Liam’s arm emerges around the edge of the shower curtain, which has a pattern of pale blue cornflowers on it. Zayn clasps his damp fingers and counts to ten.

“Alright,” Liam says, muffled by the sound of the shower, as if he’s been counting just like Zayn. “Let’s give it a go.”

Zayn lets go of Liam’s hand and stands there feeling a bit useless. He’s been in the bathroom when his sisters are in the shower before, nipping in to get something or ask an urgent question, but he’s never just stood there while someone else is bathing. He figures he might as well get his kit off, though, so they’re not in the bathroom forever. He is a little bit nervous about metal pipes during a storm. He thinks, logically, there must be some sort of plastic insulation that would keep them from conducting that much electricity, but the house looks like a Victorian conversion, period on the outside and modern on the inside, so it’s hard to know if all of the plumbing is new or if it’s patchwork. He’s thinking about all this as he wraps a towel around his waist and takes the other for Liam, ready to hand it over when he finishes his shower.

It’s only another minute after that before Liam says, “I’m done.”

“You’d better leave the water running,” Zayn responds. “I’ve got a towel for you, I won’t look while you hop out.”

He dutifully turns his back, holding out the towel behind him. He can hear Liam shuffling around, the rustle and wet slap of the curtain against the tub, the sound of footfalls against the bath mat. The towel leaves his hand and he feels a sudden lightness in its absence.

“Alright.”

Zayn turns around and his stomach dips hotly at the sight of Liam, sopping wet with the long bits of his hair gone curly, rivulets of water running down his chest and along the trail of hair to the lip of his navel, down to where he’s holding his towel up around his waist with one hand. Liam holds out his other hand and it takes Zayn a minute to focus on it, to remember that he’s supposed to touch Liam so that they can postpone the pain for long enough for Zayn to shower as well.

Liam’s hand is relatively dry, compared to his torso, probably from handling the towel as he wrapped it around. Zayn holds onto it for longer than ten seconds this time, both of them standing in place with the water still beating down in the empty tub, making the room feel humid and close.

***

“I think,” Zayn starts.

“That might be enough, yeah,” Liam finishes, meeting his gaze.

Zayn nods and swaps places with Liam, and he doesn’t give a warning before he drops his towel. Liam catches a glimpse of his bare bum, small and paler than the rest of him, and turns his head away so quickly that he’s afraid he’s given himself whiplash. He feels like apologising, even though Zayn clearly wasn’t worried about Liam looking, otherwise he would have said something, but it’s not like Liam didn’t know he was about to get in the tub, so maybe he was supposed to anticipate it.

Liam concentrates on drying himself off methodically, starting at his shoulders and making his way down to his legs. Once his body is mostly dry, he roughs up his wet hair with the towel in both hands. He doesn’t have anything new to wear and tries to remember if the other lads besides Harry were dressed differently from yesterday – he thinks Harry will probably lend them some clothes, but he just has the one pair of pants, so he puts those back on for now and waits.

He’s not sure how much time passes. It’s hard to keep count since he didn’t look at his watch when Zayn got in. It’s sitting on top of his t-shirt, on the closed toilet lid. He decides to brush his teeth again, just to have something to do while Zayn finishes. The room is quiet except for the sound of water, and so warm that he feels sleepy again. He’s just finished rinsing his mouth when he hears it – a low noise almost like a sob.

“Zayn?” In the time it takes for him to say Zayn’s name, the first wave of pain hits him. It’s more like being thrown into a wall, actually, hurt blooming in different parts of his body all at once. Liam grits his teeth and walks the few steps to the tub, thankful for how small the bathroom is.

And then he hears a clatter and it’s terrifying, the thought of Zayn slipping in the tub and hitting his head. Liam’s heart is pounding as he pulls back the curtain, and he’s relieved to find Zayn sat there with his arms around his knees, collapsed around himself like he might be able to hide from the pain. Liam feels a shudder run through him and sees it reflected in the way Zayn’s shoulders tighten and he starts to shiver, and Liam instinctively puts out his hand and presses it against Zayn’s cheek. The relief is so immediate that the absence of pain feels like pleasure, like someone’s rubbing his back and soothing over the quickly disappearing hurt.

Zayn lets out a wet, muffled sigh against his knees, but he’s still shaking under the spray, even though Liam can feel how warm it is. He reaches for the knobs and turns off first the hot, then the cold water.

“Sorry,” Zayn says, one hand coming up to stroke over Liam’s wrist. “I thought I had a bit longer.” He turns his head to look at Liam, his cheek moving into the cradle of Liam’s palm, and it’s suddenly hard for Liam to breathe.

He can’t explain the tenderness he feels for Zayn, a protective urge that overrides his own pain and makes him almost happy to be the one that can take away Zayn’s. It doesn’t make sense, really, but neither does anything else about the situation. There is no good explanation for the way his pulse kicks up when Zayn looks at him through his thick, wet eyelashes and offers him a weak smile.

Liam doesn’t know what to do about any of it, so he carefully looks away as he offers Zayn a hand up, averting his gaze from his naked body and fetching his towel off the floor as soon as he’s upright.

“Thanks,” Zayn says, quiet like he’s still not fully recovered from earlier. It’s weird, actually, because Liam feels fine now that they’re touching. Zayn must be drying himself off one handed, still clinging to Liam’s hand like a lifeline. “I’m done.”

Liam nods. “I’m just gonna…”

They separate long enough for Liam to scoop up his t-shirt and watch, and hang up his used towel on the rail to dry. Zayn trails behind him, holding his towel up, clothes tucked under his arm.

“Gonna have to borrow some clothes from Harry,” he says, putting a hand at the small of Liam’s back as Liam opens the bathroom door.

“Yeah.” If Liam shivers, he can blame it on the temperature shift between the bathroom and the hall.

***

Harry lends them some clothes, and they’re all near enough the same size that it works: Zayn in soft basketball shorts and a loose v-neck, Liam in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt that only stretches a bit tight across his shoulders. Zayn changes as quickly as humanly possible, tucking his hand into the crook of Liam’s elbow even though it makes pulling on the joggers somewhat awkward for Liam. He still feels weird, is the thing. His pulse is still racing slightly, his skin buzzing like it was before he went to bed last night. The pain he felt in the shower wasn’t the same as the other times they’ve gone too long without touching: it made his skin crawl all over, like pins and needles but worse, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. Liam’s touch dialled it all down, but he can’t seem to settle, and it’s clear that Liam doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t like to imagine that there could be something else wrong with him besides the dependence they have on each other’s touch.

He’s obviously not doing a very good job of hiding how on edge he is. Once they’re settled in the lounge in front of the telly, Zayn’s sat between Liam and Niall, and the latter shoots him a curious look.

“You alright? You look a bit peaky.”

Zayn nods and tries to smile. “Just tired.”

“Aw, did Liam wear you out?” Louis teases from the loveseat. “Who’d’ve thought a freak lightning storm would start such a love connection.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Zayn says, letting his head drop to Liam’s shoulder.

Harry looks up from the floor, leaning his back against Niall’s legs. “Maybe Niall will fall in love with me now and we’ll give you two a run for your money.”

Niall laughs over the indignant noise Louis makes. “Nah, if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not happening now. You’ve had nearly a whole term to seduce me before this.”

“You two know each other?” Liam asks.

Zayn’s not surprised; Niall’s the type of person you remember. He stood out in a crowded lecture theatre, all loud voice and infectious laughter, while Zayn slunk in late and sat closest to the door.

“Yeah, me and Harry are on the same Musicology course. Me and Zayn had the same performance theory English module last term. Pretty funny actually.” Niall’s smile is a flash of white teeth in Zayn’s peripheral vision.

Liam nods. “That is funny, that we’re all at the same uni.”

“I don’t go to your uni, if you’ll kindly remember. But it is close by, so I take your point.” Louis arches an eyebrow in Liam’s direction. Zayn vaguely remembers him talking about his drama course the night before.

The buzzing under Zayn’s skin is sending him crazy, has him fidgeting against Liam’s side and bouncing his leg as the others talk around him. Bizarrely, his fingers feel hot, like he’s scalded the tips of them. He’s distracted by it and somehow not expecting it at all when Liam starts rubbing soothing circles over his back. They were already touching, Zayn’s temple resting against Liam’s neck, but this feels better, more grounding. The heat in his fingertips is more like a hint of pins and needles now, and he really wants to talk to Liam about it, wants to ask if he’s feeling it as well. He’s not sure which answer would be more reassuring.

“I need a nap,” Zayn says, mostly to Liam. He has no idea what time it is, but it can’t be very long past noon yet.

“You sure you’re okay?” Harry asks, frowning with his whole face.

“Mmhm.” He’s reluctant to get up, because it means untucking himself from his position under Liam’s arm, but he knows Liam won’t make him leave the room alone.

“I’ll go with you,” Liam says, mostly for everyone else’s benefit. “Just to sleep,” he adds.

The others are apparently already bored of making fun of them, or maybe Zayn just looks that wrecked, because they’re waved off without further comment, only a murmured chorus of “Later, lads.”

Liam’s a step behind him the whole way to the bedroom, his hand resting between Zayn’s shoulder blades. The walk isn’t long enough for him to feel the difference between skin-on-skin and contact through his clothes, but he feels more off-kilter again as he thinks about telling Liam what’s going on with him.

“What’s up?” Liam asks, all wide-eyed concern now that they’re alone together. He catches Zayn’s elbow and holds on, re-establishing proper contact in a way that’s already second nature to them both.

“I’ve been… Since the shower, I still feel really weird. Twitchy and like, my fingers feel hot.” He presses his fingertips against Liam’s cheek. “Does that feel hot to you?”

Liam’s brows knit together. “Yeah, I think maybe a bit. To be fair, I don’t know if I’d have noticed if you hadn’t mentioned it.”

“So you’re fine, then? I mean, as long as we’re touching, you don’t feel anything.”

That makes Liam blink as if he has to think about it. “I don’t. No, it doesn’t hurt and I don’t feel twitchy like you said. I wonder why it’s just you this time.”

“I dunno. Maybe it’s all in me head. It’s a fucking bizarre situation so maybe my brain is having trouble processing it or whatever.”

Liam looks even more concerned at that. “Maybe we should tell the others, see if we can get you to A&E somehow.”

“And tell the doctor what?” Zayn shakes his head. “I just want to rest a bit, if you don’t mind.”

He strips off his t-shirt and gets into bed, his back to Liam so he doesn’t have to see the worry and confusion etched across his face. He feels chilly and exposed, nervous until the mattress dips and Liam climbs in behind him. At first, he only feels the aura of Liam’s body heat, but then Liam folds himself closer and Zayn can feel his bare chest and torso pressed all the way along his back. Liam places a tentative hand on Zayn’s hip, and Zayn grabs it, pulls it over his own belly and covers as much of Liam’s arm as possible with his own. He doesn’t know if it’s the touch dependence or a more straightforward reaction to being held close against warm skin, but he feels so much better all of a sudden. His fingers are still tingly, but the rest of him quiets down, his pulse actually starting to slow down from the frantic rabbit’s pace it’s been keeping.

Sleep tugs at it him, making his mouth go lax as he mumbles a thank you. He registers the sound of Liam’s voice in response, but not the words, before everything goes dark and quiet.

***

Liam is amazed by how quickly Zayn drops off. Even when he’s exhausted, Liam never falls asleep just like that, like a candle being blown out. He lies there listening to Zayn’s deep, even breathing. With Zayn asleep, it’s easy for Liam’s body to relax, losing the self-consciousness he would normally feel about spooning someone, let alone a male someone. Zayn’s stubble is growing in dark and thick, shading his jawline, and his face looks wiped clean.

Liam’s brain is sprinting in about six different directions at once, trying to figure out what could be wrong, why Zayn is now having another, separate reaction from the one they’ve already discovered. He’s still not even sure why it’s just the two of them and not the others, who surely weren’t that far enough away from them that the lightning wouldn’t affect them. All of their mobile phones suffered the same fate, after all, so it seems reasonable to expect that all five of them received the same weird surge of energy during the lightning strike. Liam turns it over and over in his mind, tries to remember everything he can about the moments before it happened, when they were all huddled under the meagre protection of the bus shelter, trying to stay dry. He falls asleep thinking about Zayn’s face bathed in light as bright and sudden as a strobe.

He wakes up disoriented and over-warm, automatically reaching for Zayn, who has rolled an arm’s length away, Liam’s fingertips barely brushing his skin. He places his hand more solidly against Zayn’s chest and he’s shocked by the heat of him. As he comes all the way awake, Liam notices the fine tremble running through Zayn’s feverish body, the quiet uh-uh grunts like he’s in pain and trying not to show it.

“Zayn?” His whisper sounds loud in the room, the sky so grey through the gap in the curtains that he can’t tell what time of day it is without looking. “How long have you been like this?”  
Zayn’s shoulders shift like he’s trying to shrug, and Liam rolls him onto his back so he can get a good look at him, touching him gently and wincing at the fever heat of his skin.

“You’re burning up,” he says, uselessly.

He watches Zayn’s throat work around a swallow. Zayn sounds hoarse and unwell when he speaks, stuttering like he can’t quite get a grip on the words. “I-I don’t feel… I d-don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Liam’s about to insist on a doctor when he looks down and notices the way Zayn’s fingertips are… there’s no other way to describe it but glowing. “Zayn…”

He lifts a hand from where his arms are tucked protectively around himself and nods. “My fingers hurt.”

Liam takes Zayn’s hand and touches his thumb to Zayn’s index finger, hissing at how much hotter it is than the rest of his skin, glowing orange-red like an ember in the fireplace.

“We’ve got to tell the others.” He wants it to come out decisively but it sounds more like pleading. He touches Zayn’s middle finger, ring finger, little finger. They all feel hot enough to brand him if he touches him too long.

Zayn’s making little abortive movements of his head like he can’t decide if he’s shaking it or nodding, the rest of him still trembling. Liam strokes his chest and makes shushing noises, trying to soothe him like he would a dog or a small child. Zayn reaches for his wrist and his fingers actually sizzle against Liam’s skin, making Liam hiss.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zayn takes his hand back and curls both of them into fists.

“I’m gonna tell the others. I have to. We need help, Zayn.”

Zayn doesn’t respond. His eyes look glazed and a little wet at the corners. Desperation claws at Liam from the inside, and he reluctantly moves away from Zayn, towards the door.

He flicks on the light switch, wincing against the brightness, and calls out. “Lads?” He raises his voice so it’ll carry down to the lounge, where he assumes the others still are. “Guys, can you come here a minute? I, we need your help. Please.”

“What?” Someone calls up the stairs.

He hears footsteps, loud and quick, responding to the unmasked urgency in his tone. All three boys appear on the landing below and Liam is suddenly, profoundly grateful, even though he’s not quite sure how they’ll be able to help him sort this out. It’s better than facing it alone, anyway.

“It’s Zayn,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheek as he struggles with how to even begin explaining it. He turns back into the room and the others follow him.

Zayn looks shockingly unwell, his hair sticking to his forehead where it’s damp with sweat. He’s still on his back, holding his hands away from his chest. Liam can see the shimmer of heat rising from his hands, the orange glow spreading out into his palms like there’s a fire lit inside. He turns to look at the others. Niall and Harry share the same open-mouthed looks of disbelief, while Louis' eyebrows are drawn together in an intense frown.

“What the fuck?” Louis asks. “Are you all seeing this?”

Liam kneels on the edge of the bed, hovering over Zayn. He knows they can’t have much longer before the pain sets in, but he’s slightly afraid to touch him. He looks down and sees five perfect fingertip marks around his wrist, red against his pale skin from where Zayn grabbed him earlier. Liam turns his gaze back to the other boys. “Something’s happened. I think it was the lightning strike. It started with, well, this is going to sound quite strange.”

“Stranger than Zayn’s hands being on fire?” Niall asks. He makes a fair point. Liam wonders if actual flames are the next step; he really hopes not.

“About the same level of strange, I’d say. Uh, Zayn and I have to be touching, otherwise it hurts us both. That’s how it started, and then earlier he started to feel feverish and weird and now…” He gestures helplessly at Zayn.

“What do you mean, it hurts when you’re not touching?” Louis' frown deepens.

“It’s sort of hard to explain…” Liam falters.

Zayn’s making little noises, like he’s swallowing back whimpers. When he speaks, his voice sounds wrecked. “Show them. I-it’s okay.”

Liam clasps his hands together. “It’s been a few minutes now, so you can see for yourselves.”

The room is quiet except for Zayn’s laboured breathing, so it’s easy to pinpoint the exact moment it happens. Zayn curls in on himself, still holding his hands away from the rest of his body, and Liam winces as the sensation washes over him, swift and searing, like a knife through his skull.

“Jesus,” Niall says, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Alright, we believe you, make it stop,” Harry urges. He sounds as distressed as Liam feels.

Liam touches the back of Zayn’s neck, and the pain seeps out of him slowly. Zayn’s skin is sweaty and too warm, but he sighs with relief at the same time Liam does. He climbs onto the bed next to Zayn, keeping his hand where it is. It’s intimate in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.

“What. The. Fuck.” Louis says.

“I’m gonna go get some ice cubes.”

Everyone turns to look at Harry. Even Zayn slants his gaze at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Seems like the best way to cool him down, yeah?” Harry shrugs.

“Yeah, worth a shot. I’ll come with you,” Louis volunteers. They leave the room together, talking in low tones once they’re out the door.

Niall moves closer to the bed, standing behind Liam and peering over his shoulder at Zayn. “Hey, Zayn. You okay, mate?” It takes Liam a minute to catch on that Niall’s doing a spot-on impression of Zayn’s Bradford accent. “Just chilling, like, up north, like. Chilling with lads and that.”

Zayn lets out a low, hoarse laugh. “Kind of the opposite of chilling,” he mumbles, putting in an effort and getting a delighted cackle out of Niall.

“Aw, Zayn. We’re gonna get you sorted out, okay?”

Liam rubs Zayn’s back as Niall talks. He feels a little pang at how easily Niall talks to Zayn, how he’s got him joking back and ghosting a smile. It’s not jealousy, exactly, but Liam is very aware that he doesn’t know how to do things like that, how to comfort people by saying the right thing and making them laugh through their troubles.

There’s a rattling noise in the doorway as Louis and Harry come back, bearing a plastic tub filled with ice cubes and water.

“Zayn, do you think you can sit up?” Harry asks. He looks from Zayn to Liam.

Zayn nods, struggling up onto his elbows. “I can’t, like.” He gestures with his glowing hands. Who knows what will happen if they touch the sheets.

“Right.” Liam scrambles into a seated position against the headboard and hooks his arms under Zayn’s, carefully hauling him up against his chest, Zayn’s back against Liam’s front. He hopes Zayn doesn’t notice how quickly his heart is beating.

Harry and Louis carefully place the plastic container in Zayn’s lap, and Zayn looks down at the ice water before plunging his hands into it. The water sizzles momentarily, but the ice cubes stay mostly frozen – Liam was half expecting the water to start boiling. The five of them sit there in a loose clump, staring at his hands in the water, watching the orange glow start to fade.

“Is it working?” Louis asks. “It looks like it’s working.”

Zayn’s sigh vibrates against Liam’s chest, their ribs expanding together. “I think so. It feels better.”

After a while, the glow is completely extinguished and Zayn’s fingertips are starting to go pruney. He lifts one hand out of the tub and lets it drip dry, lower lip between his teeth.

“It worked. Brilliant, Harry.” Niall slaps first Harry’s back and then Zayn’s wet hand.

Liam feels almost weak with the relief of seeing Zayn’s hands back to normal, pinkish from the cold but otherwise a nice skin colour. He touches their fingertips together, tentative at first and then enveloping Zayn’s cold hand with his warmer, larger one. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to break the delicate, spun glass moment. The other boys are still sat on the bed too, all of them crowded around Zayn with matching relieved grins. In a strange way, sharing their secret with them feels like it was the right thing to do, not only because Harry came up with the clever idea to use ice, but because having them all on his and Zayn’s side lifts some of the burden off Liam’s shoulders; he’s part of a group.

He can actually sense Zayn’s gaze on him, so he looks down and meets it. Zayn laces their fingers together and holds on, his eyes warm and understanding, like he knows what Liam is thinking.

***

The others know about the weird proximity thing with him and Liam now, and that’s actually quite nice – the latest weather forecast predicted at least another twenty-four hours of thunderstorms, and it means they won’t have to keep making up excuses for the rest of the time they’re here. It also means that they can stop pretending they’re shagging. Zayn was actually having a bit of fun with the subterfuge, if he’s being honest, but he hopes it’ll stop Liam from being so cagey and embarrassed all the time.

They all gather in the kitchen again while Harry and Niall prepare dinner, some chicken pasta dish that meets everyone’s approval. Zayn still feels quite strange about his Human Torch act earlier, but it seems almost like it was a hallucination now that they’re chatting away about mundane things like football and the best sides at Nando’s, all of it breezing past Zayn as he leans against the worktop with Liam’s arm draped around his shoulders, lost in his own thoughts. He goes over the facts: he still has no explanation for why his hands were burning up earlier, but if icing them takes care of the problem, then he can put that aside for now. On the whole, the lads have taken it all in stride surprisingly well. He’s used to feeling the odd one out in groups of strangers, being singled out for some reason or another: his name, his skin colour, his religion, his sexuality, his tattoos. But even when presented with a perfectly good reason to be wary of him, no one’s giving him the cold shoulder. Of course, Liam can’t physically separate from Zayn even if he wants to, but when he considers the desperate way Liam summoned the others and the carefulness of his touch afterwards, the fact that he pulled Zayn out of the way of danger before they’d even spoken, he thinks Liam might just be the kind of good guy who would look out for Zayn even if they weren’t physically dependent on each other’s touch.

Zayn only realises how completely zoned out he’s been when Liam says his name, slightly apologetic but with enough emphasis that it seems like he’s repeated it a few times before.

He turns to look at him, raising his eyebrows in a question. “Yeah? Sorry.”

“Harry wants to know if you want cheese on your pasta.” Liam’s eyes crinkle up as he smiles, and Zayn feels his own mouth pull into an answering dopey little grin.

He turns to Harry, still smiling. “I’d love some cheese, thanks. It smells delicious.”

Harry beams at him. “See, Zayn has manners,” he tells Louis as he sprinkles grated cheese on a plate of pasta and then puts it in front of Zayn with a flourish.

Zayn has definitely missed something, but he doesn’t mind it. Now that he’s got food in front of him, he’s absolutely ravenous, and he’s ready to dig in.

After dinner, Liam volunteers to do the washing up, and by extension, volunteers Zayn as well. Liam washes and Zayn dries, resting his hand at the back of Liam’s neck while he waits for the next plate even though the whole process probably only takes about five minutes anyway. It’s a weirdly domestic scene, the others staying in the kitchen to laugh and bicker and occasionally pulling Zayn and Liam into the conversation even though it’s difficult to hear them over the sound of running water.

They sit in the lounge afterwards and check the news again, watching footage of flooding and lightning damage to trees, the reporter explaining for the hundredth time that the storms are only concentrated over London, as opposed to anywhere else in England. There’s definitely something freakish about it.

“You know what, this is some proper comic book origin story stuff,” Zayn says, gesturing at the aerial footage of the storm clouds gathered over their city.

“Or like that show Misfits, do you remember that one?” Niall adds.

“Yeah, I watched some of that,” Harry says. “Do you reckon it’s some kind of superpower, then?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I dunno. If it is a superpower then I’d quite like to have actual flames come out of my hands instead of just getting really hot, d’you know what I mean?”

“That’d be wicked!“ Louis' eyes are bright. “How come the rest of us don’t get powers? That’s a bit shit. Although Zayn’s got hot hands and the two of them have got attachment issues… If I do have a power, I hope it’s cooler than that, no offence. Flying or something like that.”

“I’d quite like invisibility,” Liam says, “If I’ve got a choice.”

“Why would you want to be invisible? Just to like sneak in places?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, could do. Sneak in places, escape from them, hide from... uh, whoever.” Liam scrubs a hand through his hair, looking slightly sheepish.

Harry nods like he’s conceding the point. “Might be fun for spying on people, too. Not in like a pervy way, but if you wanted to know what people say about you.”

Zayn studies Liam quietly, wondering what kind of people he’s wanted to hide from and if that’s why he’s so, so careful in everything he does. Liam catches him looking and sends him a quick sidelong glance and a brief flash of a smile.

It’s almost like Freshers Week at uni all over again, forming quick bonds in the first day or two so that you’ve got people to navigate the new landscape with. Zayn was fortunate enough to have Danny from home there already, in his second year by the time Zayn arrived, but he’d picked up a smattering of friends then too – some of them are still his friends now. The bond with Liam is strongest, for obvious reasons, but the more they all get to know each other, the more Zayn gets the sense that he might be drawn to Liam anyway, like his personality is the one that fits with Zayn’s most naturally. He rests his chin on Liam’s shoulder, half listening to the group talking. They’ve moved on to another topic, something to do with spaceships. Zayn watches the shape of Liam’s mouth as he responds, taking in the fullness of his lips and his slight underbite, the cadence of the Midlands in his warm voice. He feels lulled by it, like he could almost fall asleep again.

When he pulls his gaze away from Liam’s mouth, he catches Louis smirking at him.

***

Liam could really do with a break at this point. Zayn’s lovely and he’s quiet, like he’s giving Liam space even though they’re sat right next to each other. But the lack of physical space is a problem for Liam – he’s not used to this much contact. Even without the touching thing he and Zayn have, the others are constantly touching: pinching nipples, slapping bums, going in for hugs. Niall moves to sit next to him on the sofa after a while and rests his head on Liam’s shoulder, the arm that’s not wrapped around Zayn. It’s nice, but it’s a bit overwhelming.

On his other side, Zayn shifts, tucking himself more securely under Liam’s arm. Liam looks down and notices that he’s twitchy, running his thumb over all his other fingers in a repetitive motion.

“You alright?” he asks, concerned that Zayn was about to have another episode of fever and glowing hands.

Zayn blinks up at him, long eyelashes fluttering. “Yeah.” He looks sheepish. “It’s just that I could really do with a fag.”

“Do you have cigarettes on you?”

He nods. “Yeah, they’re in the bedroom, in my jacket.”

“The rain doesn’t look too bad just at the moment… Maybe Harry’ll let you smoke out the window?” Liam suggests. He doesn’t smoke himself, but he knows enough smokers that he’s impressed Zayn’s held out since yesterday. He reckons they’ve had enough distractions along the way that he probably hasn’t had time to think about it.

“Harry?” Zayn lifts his head to look at him, interrupting the slap fight he and Louis are having.

“Yeah?”

Zayn mimes a cigarette. “Can I, like. Open a window or something and have a smoke?”

Harry nods slowly. “Yeah, uh, maybe in the bathroom? You can turn on the fan afterwards, that’ll help take care of the smell.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says, turning his grateful look from Harry to Liam.

Liam gently dislodges Niall, who settles down in the empty seat and looks like he’s about to have a nap, and follows Zayn to the bedroom. Even though they could make the short trip without touching, it feels natural to just take Zayn’s hand as they walk.

Neither of them bothers with the light switch in the bedroom. Zayn goes through the pockets of his leather jacket and finds the packet and a lighter, while Liam hovers nearby, watching him illuminated by the slice of light coming through the open door from the corridor. The sky outside is murky, but there’s a bit of blue mixed in with the grey now that it’s only drizzling. Liam wonders how much longer it’ll be until the next downpour, the next round of thunder and lightning. Zayn slides his hand along Liam’s waist as he passes by, fluent in the same language of touches as the other boys but gentler, like he doesn’t want Liam to startle. He inclines his head and Liam understands it to mean ‘come on.’

In the bathroom, Zayn unlatches the window and gives it a good push. It sticks at first but then goes smoothly, letting in a burst of cool air that smells clean, like grass and wet dirt. The sky’s getting darker, edging towards dusk. Zayn taps his pack against the heel of his palm before he opens it and slides a cigarette out, cupping his hand around it as he lights up with a smooth flick of his plastic lighter. The cherry glows red in the dim bathroom and Liam remembers the way Zayn’s hands glowed earlier. It feels like it was days ago already. He watches Zayn’s cheeks hollow out around the first drag. He’s watched people smoke loads of times, but it feels strangely intimate in this setting, more so when Zayn puts down his lighter and reaches out with his free hand, rubbing over the inside of Liam’s wrist.

The thing about all this contact is that it’s difficult to remember that he’s not being touched by someone who wants him like that, that he and Zayn are linked together by this strange bond. He thinks about Dani and the way her fingers would sweep over his skin when they were lying in bed, playing with his hair when it was longer, seeking out all his moles and freckles and tiny scars. It’s been long enough that it doesn’t hurt to think about her now. He just remembers how nice it felt to be wanted, looked after, treated so carefully. Zayn’s touches are confusing because they’re so tender. He’s not used to this being a way that boys touch each other, and he wonders who taught Zayn how to touch people like this, careful but deliberate, his fingertips moving across Liam’s open palm before he takes his hand again.

They don’t speak for a long time while Zayn finishes his cigarette, taking slow drags and sighing a little on the exhale.

“What are we gonna do,” Liam starts to ask, the sound of his own voice surprising after so much silence, “when the rain stops?”

Zayn gives him a one-shoulder shrug. “You could come to mine for a bit. I’m guessing you’d want to get some things from yours first. I dunno if you have flatmates or whatever. I do, but they won’t mind. They might think we’re, you know, doing it, but I’ve brought home guys before.”

Liam nods – that definitely sounds easier than sneaking touches in ways that won’t make his own flatmates suspicious. “But what about like, school? Are we just going to follow along to each other’s lectures? Some of my classes are quite small, I think the lecturers would notice. And what if we both have to be different places at the same time?” Worry creeps into his voice, betraying that tightly-wound, too responsible side of him that always makes his friends sigh.

“We’ll sort it out, Liam,” Zayn says. His accent draws out the syllables, adds a different texture to the name he’s had his whole life. “In comic books and movies and that, they always find a way to control their powers, yeah? We’ll get this sussed and sorted.”

Zayn’s smoked his cigarette down to the filter, and he stubs it out against the metal part of the window frame, brushes the ash out onto the sill to be picked up by the wind. He wraps the butt in a scrap of toilet roll and drops it in the small bin next to the toilet.

“All good, bro.” He grins and tugs Liam closer, his arm reassuring around Liam’s shoulders even though he has to reach up a bit because of the few inches Liam’s got on him.

“All good,” Liam repeats, although he’s still concerned about what kind of cure or control there is for this thing between them – it’s not exactly a power, is it?

Even after the moments of calm in the bathroom, Liam still wishes he could have some time alone, apart from Zayn, to sort out his head.

***

The cigarette takes the edge off and soothes his frayed nerves, but Zayn keeps waiting for something else to happen. Now that he’s more settled in his skin himself, he notices that Liam seems quieter, more withdrawn. Among his friends and family, Zayn’s notorious for being closed off with strangers, but he’s trying with Liam – Zayn can tell he really wants to be liked, is the thing, and he wants to show him that he is. At the same time, he understands better than anyone what it’s like to want space for himself.

When they rejoin the others in the lounge, Niall and Louis are playing a videogame and Harry is sat between them with a bowl of crisps. The other sofa is small, more of a loveseat, really. Zayn sits down and waits for Liam to join him, lets him set the terms of how they fit in to each other’s space. Liam leaves about an inch of space between them and puts his arm around the back of the couch, his hand touching the base of Zayn’s neck. Zayn mirrors him, even though they only need to maintain one point of contact. His fingertips brush against Liam’s skin as they watch the game of Mario Kart in progress. Harry occasionally interjects encouragement to Niall, so Zayn decides he’ll even it out by calling out pointers to Louis, who mutters about backseat driving but points excitedly at Zayn when one of his suggestions works. Liam’s quiet the whole time and Zayn finds himself playing with the short curls at the nape of his neck. He shivers at first but then settles, so Zayn keeps doing it.

“Tired?” he asks after a while.

The boys have switched to FIFA and passed the controllers around a few times. They offered Liam and Zayn a turn but they both declined. Zayn’s pretty good at FIFA but he’s not really in the mood.

Liam turns to look at him, soft and sleepy-eyed, his hair sticking up in the back where Zayn’s fingers have made a mess of it. He nods. Zayn looks at the clock on the wall. It’s just gone eleven.

“Gonna turn in. It’s been a long day,” he announces, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds on the screen.

Niall gets up to give Zayn a firm hug, unexpected but lovely. Harry pauses the game to join in, wrapping his long arms around Zayn as Niall moves on to Liam. Louis protests at the interruption but he rushes at Zayn like he’s going to tackle him, squeezes him around the middle and gives Liam’s nipple a pinch while he’s still hugging Harry. Being at the centre of so much raucous affection ought to make Zayn shy but it just makes him grin, buoyed by the giddy joy of it. It’s sweet, as if they’re all remembering how they got through the weird episode with his hands earlier.

“Alright, alright, let us go.” He gives Louis a playful shove and pats Harry’s behind. “I’m knackered and this one’s dead on his feet.” He points his thumb at Liam.

“Aww, you two are such a married couple. Maybe this mysterious lightning strike was just playing matchmaker after all,” Louis teases. “Hey, there’s an idea though. You know how the cure for Zayn’s hot hands was cold? Could be the cure for this touch thing.”

“What, ice?” Harry asks, visibly confused.

“No, Harold.”

“Not my name.”

“I’m just saying, like. If the problem is that you have to keep touching, maybe the solution is to touch as much as possible.” Louis wiggles his eyebrows and looks suggestively from Liam’s crotch to Zayn’s, making his meaning clear. Zayn’s only surprised that he doesn’t actually hump the air.

“Knock it off,” Zayn says. “Liam doesn’t like boys, anyway.”

Harry shrugs. “Sexuality is fluid. Most people are at least a little bit bisexual.”

“Yeah, mate, I know, but that’s not… I really don’t think that’s scientifically sound, like. You can’t cure this,” Zayn holds up his and Liam’s joined hands, “with sex.”

“I dunno,” Niall says, thoughtfully. “For the record, I’d sleep with Zayn. Look at that face.”

“Cheers, Niall.” Zayn can’t help grinning at him.

Harry starts talking to Niall then, and Louis talks over both of them until it sounds like they’re arguing, but Zayn’s pretty sure they’re all actually in agreement about something to do with the spectrum of human sexuality. He takes advantage of the distraction to tug Liam away, calling back a last “Goodnight!“ before they disappear down the corridor.

Liam lets Zayn lead him, practically stumbling over his own feet. At first, Zayn thinks it’s because he’s tired, but when he flicks on the light switch in the bedroom they’re now sharing, he notices that Liam is frowning.

“What’s up?”

“Hm? Oh. Nothing.” Liam shrugs, fingers flexing in Zayn’s grip like he wants to get away.

“Louis was only joking.”

He nods, clearly still perturbed. His eyebrows come together in the middle and his frown makes his lower lip push out into a pout. “Yeah, I just… Yeah.”

Zayn lets go of his hand, just for a little bit, trying to give him the space he needs. He sits down on the bed and meets Liam’s gaze, curious to see if he has anything more to say.

It takes a good minute before Liam sits down next to him, looking at his own hands in his lap. “I dunno, he might have a point though.”

“What’s that?”

“I mean, when we first go without touching, it hurts straight away, yeah? And then later it’s five minutes, but then when you were in the shower I don’t know how long that was – might’ve been more, might’ve been less. I’m just wondering if maybe more touching would help? Not like…” Liam blushes, cheeks and ears and the back of his neck all going pink. “Not what Louis was getting at but just more contact.”

“You mean like how we slept during our nap?” Zayn smiles a little, touching his fingertips to Liam’s wrist.

“Yeah, like that. Your fever thing kind of got in the way so, I mean.” Liam’s still flushed. Zayn can almost let himself imagine that it’s because of him and not because of the whole situation.

“If you want to spoon with me again, all you have to do is ask, mate.”

Zayn grins when Liam looks up, eyes crinkling around a surprised little laugh. It looks good on him, his face instantly transformed when the creases of worry are replaced by laugh lines.

“I just think, maybe. We could try it.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “We could try.”

It doesn’t take him long to strip down to his boxers again, throwing his borrowed shorts and t-shirt off to the side haphazardly. Liam’s quick about undressing too, like he’s in a changing room or something, but he folds his joggers and shirt and puts his watch on top of the pile.

Zayn flops on the bed, making an effort to keep everything as silly and easy as possible. “Come here. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon this time?”

Liam shrugs and drops down beside him, leaning on his elbows. “You can be big spoon this time,” he says.

They turn off the light and settle themselves accordingly, Zayn’s chest against Liam’s back, one arm propped under his own head and the other tucked around Liam’s middle. His skin feels radiant with warmth, his chin tucking easily over Liam’s shoulder. He keeps a fair amount of distance between his crotch and Liam’s bum, because this isn’t that kind of spooning, but his knees knock up against the backs of Liam’s thighs. It’s been awhile since Zayn’s had somebody to do this with, and on a purely physical level, it’s just really nice. Liam feels solid and very real. He smells clean but boyish, a faint hint of sweat and musk under the soap they both used earlier.

Liam’s gone so quiet that Zayn thinks he might be asleep already, and he’s prepared to follow his lead until Liam whispers, “Hey, Zayn?”

“Yeah?”

Liam shifts, turning around so they’re face to face, sharing a pillow. “Do you really think what Harry said is true?”

Zayn has to think about what Liam could mean, and then he gets it. “Oh, like. About sexuality being fluid and that? Yeah.” He pauses. “I mean, it was true for me. I didn’t know I liked boys too until sixth form. I didn’t know what to call it at first, like. I thought I kind of had to pick a side. But you don’t, really. You can be anything you want and want who you want. The people that matter won’t care.”

Liam is quiet, breathing in shallow burst of hot air between them.

“Sorry, didn’t mean that to be a lecture or whatever. I’m not an expert, that’s just what I think.”

“No, that makes sense,” Liam says, quickly, with a reassuring pat to Zayn’s shoulder. He’s quiet again for a bit, and then, “Could I, like…”

“Hm?”

“Just want to try something.” Liam’s breath is hot and desperate against Zayn’s face, and then before Zayn can really parse what he’s getting at, Liam’s lips are on his.

It takes him a moment to catch up, but then he wakes up to it, lets Liam kiss him and puts a hand against his cheek as he kisses him back. The generous pout of Liam’s lips feels amazing, especially after Zayn flicks out his tongue and wets them a little. They don’t kiss for very long: Zayn’s just starting to get into it, really, when the bed shudders.

***

It takes Liam a moment to figure out that the bed – no, the whole house is shaking. He pulls away from Zayn’s mouth and braces on his forearms above Zayn. Liam’s never experienced an earthquake before, but he can recognise that that’s what it is, a long tremor followed by aftershocks that make Liam’s teeth rattle.

Several counts after the aftershocks stop, the door bangs open. Liam rolls off Zayn and sits up.

“Did you feel that? Are you alright?” Harry flips on the light switch and squints up at the ceiling. “No cracks. I don’t think there was much damage, just a load of rattling and a few things falling off the shelves.”

Liam nods in response, and once he’s had a good look around the room, Harry seems satisfied that they’re safe.

“Meet us in the master bedroom; we’ll check the news on my computer.”

Desperate not to be alone with Zayn, Liam latches onto the implied invitation. “Yeah, let’s uh, check that out.”

He jumps to his feet and reaches for his t-shirt. As he’s pulling it on, Harry seems to notice for the first time that they’re half naked.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Zayn says, quietly.

He doesn’t bother with his t-shirt, just pads over to the door and waits, tattoos standing out starkly against his skin under the bright overhead light. There’s a bird with an ornately feathered tail on the back of his neck that Liam hasn’t looked at properly in daylight before, the design both strong and delicate, highlighting a spot on Zayn’s body that Liam’s hand has rested before without really seeing what was underneath it.

As they follow Harry out of the room, Liam puts his hand on Zayn’s shoulder instead. He’s so embarrassed, he can’t bring himself to look right at Zayn. He can’t believe that he kissed him; he feels like he tapped into whatever reserve of foolish courage was inside him and now it’s all used up. Liam’s just been so confused over the past thirty-six hours. He’d kissed Zayn with the half formed thought that it would prove once and for all whether or not Liam likes kissing boys. And then they were hit by an earthquake: if that’s not a bad omen, Liam doesn’t know what is.

Louis and Niall are clicking around a website, wearing matching serious frowny faces.

“It’s not on the news at all, so it must’ve been small. We’re looking at the British Geological Survey website, they’ve got a section on earthquakes.”

Zayn walks around the side of the bed and perches next to Louis, chin on his shoulder as he looks at the screen. Liam stands awkwardly beside him with his hand on Zayn’s back.

“Click there, on the side. Latest News.”

Louis clicks it. “That’s the right time stamp, and it says North London.”

“Copy the location there.” Zayn points at a set of numbers that must be latitude and longitude. “And search it in Google Maps so we can see where it hit.”

Louis does as he’s told without any commentary. He zooms in on the map and lets out a low whistle. Harry’s crowded up against Niall’s back, poking his head between Niall and Louis.

“That’s my bloody house. The earthquake was literally right on top of us.”

“Well, under us, more like,” Zayn says. “But yeah.” He glances briefly at Liam, his expression unreadable.

“This is getting too strange. What the fuck is going on?” Niall has his thumb in his mouth, chewing on the nail in a nervous tic that Liam recognises because he does it too.

“Things are definitely getting weirder,” Louis concedes. “Whatever’s going on with the weather, we’re all caught up in it now. Especially these two.” He nods at Zayn and Liam.

“But like, why us?” Harry asks, leaning across Niall to rest his forearm on Louis' shoulder.

“I dunno. Maybe just the wrong place and the wrong time, but I don’t think we’ve seen the last of it.” Louis stares intently at the laptop screen like the map might hold the answer.

No one seems to want to disperse after that. Louis closes the laptop and they shuffle around, Zayn moving further onto the bed and making room for Liam next to him. He keeps sneaking glances at Liam and looking away when Liam catches his eye, and it’s making him feel like the worst kind of human scum. He’s the one who should be feeling guilty and mortified right now, not Zayn. All Zayn did was try to help Liam out and even let him kiss his surprisingly soft mouth.

“I’m scared,” Harry says, with unabashed honesty.

“Me too. I mean, we’ve had lightning and nearly fire and an earthquake. And whatever’s going on with you two lovebirds.” Niall gestures and Liam and Zayn, who are only touching knees now, both sitting cross-legged. “What’s next?”

Zayn scratches his chin, his nails making bristly noises through the stubble. “If this were a superhero thing, like, we’d be brought together for a reason. Something definitely happened to us the other night, and I think we’re slowly starting to see the effects. Be nice if the storms would let up so we could see what happens when we leave the area, go back to where we were before the lightning strike.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely fine for you guys to stay here, and we have enough food for at least the rest of the week, but we’re all gonna end up with cabin fever if we can’t leave the house in a day or two.”

“Yeah, someone’s gonna go over all Jack Nicholson in The Shining, mate, it could get ugly.” Louis' tone is sarcastic but Liam feels a chill run up his spine anyway – if Zayn’s fever was only the beginning, who knows what kind of strange things could happen to them over the next couple of days?

Niall kicks Louis in the shin. “Don’t say shit like that. Gotta keep things positive, keep morale up.”

Louis grabs Niall’s ankle and wobbles his foot around. “Alright, Mr. Motivational.”

The conversation devolves into a tickle fight, Zayn scooting back towards the foot of the bed as Harry dives into the fray. Liam doesn’t know which way to go, closer to Zayn or into the tangle of limbs, either to participate or to intervene, but the choice is taken away from him when Louis drags him by the wrist and starts tickling his armpits. At the end of it, they’re all panting and exhausted, except Zayn, who looks on with a serene but unmistakably fond smile. Liam hasn’t been counting the minutes, so he reaches out and covers Zayn’s knee with his hand, moulding his palm over the round bone, tying them together just in case.

There’s not really enough space for all of them to sleep on the bed, but by some unspoken agreement, they all stay. Niall and Harry and Louis arrange themselves three across, leaving Zayn and Liam to lie perpendicular to them at the foot of the bed. Liam ends up behind Zayn, not really spooning him but having to lean up on one elbow to see the others.

After a while, the conversation dwindles, voices slowing to a low rumble until it’s just Louis and Liam talking while the others have fallen asleep. Finally, even Louis runs out of steam and lets out a big yawn, loud in the quiet room.

“Think I’m for bed now too,” he says.

“Mmkay,” Liam responds, his eyelids growing heavy.

He hears Louis' breathing even out, matching the rhythm set by the other boys – Harry’s distinguishable by a slight wheezing snore. Zayn rolls over, dislodging Liam’s hand from his hip. Liam relocates it to his warm, bare side, feeling the way his ribcage expands with each breath. Just as he’s about to drift off, he feels Zayn lean closer.

“It’s okay,” Zayn whispers in his ear, his voice gentle, “you’re not the first guy to have a panic after kissing me. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, like. We can just pretend it didn’t happen.”

He sounds more resigned than sad, but it makes Liam’s chest go tight. He wants to tell him that’s not it, it’s not Zayn’s fault, but he doesn’t know how to explain what it is instead. Like a coward, Liam pretends to be asleep.

***

Zayn wakes up slowly and reluctantly. People are talking around him and someone is touching his face, which makes him scrunch his nose in protest.

“Whatsit?” he mumbles, burying his face in the duvet.

“Zayn, can you wake up, please?” Liam’s voice is low and kind, coaxing him into consciousness.

He blinks, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and he can’t help the sulky downturn of his lips as he squints at Liam.

“Finally,” Louis says. “We’ve been trying to rouse you for ages.”

He sits up and swipes at his eyes some more, vision still blurred. Unless something jolts him awake, he’s always slow to wake up properly, stumbling around like a zombie until a combination of time and caffeine brings him fully out of his stupor.

Someone rubs his back a little, like they’ve read his mind, and he peers over his shoulder to see Niall smiling at him, far too cheery for first thing in the morning.

“What’s happening?”

Liam sits down beside him and puts his hand on his arm. Zayn tries not to notice how awkward it is, how they’re both holding themselves so carefully.

“The rain’s stopped for a minute. We’re gonna go to the shops, see if anything’s open so we can stock up on a few things, stretch our legs.” Louis explains, flicking Zayn right in the kneecap.

Zayn hisses and rubs over the spot. “Fuck off.”

Louis just laughs, but he pats Zayn’s hand in what passes for apology.

“Do you want to come with us?” Harry asks. “Liam said he didn’t mind either way so it’s up to you.”

Zayn hesitates. He’s sure both of them could do with some time out of the house, but he also really wants to ring home and speak to his mum. He feels more homesick than usual, has done since all the weirdness of yesterday, and he’s used to talking to her nearly every day and texting with his sisters all the time, but not having a working mobile has effectively severed his lines of communication to the North, other than the quick phone call that first day to let her know he was okay. He neglected to mention the lightning strike, knowing it would just worry her, but he wants to tell his mum about the less bizarre stuff, about the lads and especially Liam, how confusing everything is in his head right now. No one knows how to untangle the knots he ties himself into better than his mum.

“It’s really alright if you’d rather stay in,” Liam says, still lightly holding onto his forearm.

He’s groggy and out of sorts, and Liam’s kind, tentative voice makes him feel like suffocating himself with a pillow.

Zayn shores himself up. “Right, yeah. If you really don’t mind… I don’t know if there’s a way I could ring me mum on the landline and like. Have a bit of privacy or whatever.”

“Hmm.” Harry draws the syllable out until it becomes a droning, insect hum. “I’ve got noise cancelling headphones that Liam could borrow.”

Liam nods, eager like he’s just so happy to help, and it makes Zayn feel even more off-kilter. He scrubs at his face, nodding without looking at anyone in particular.

“Cool, yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I’m not really a morning person.”

“We’ve noticed,” Louis says, ruffling Zayn’s hair. “What do you want from the shop? I’m getting us some Yorkshire Tea.”

“Brilliant. Yeah. Maybe some Wotsits? I dunno.”

Niall rubs between his shoulder blades before getting off the bed. “We got you covered, Zayner.”

Zayn fights the urge to just slump down and go back to sleep when the boys have gone. “You sure it’s alright we didn’t go with them?” he asks, mostly to fill the silence but also because he does feel a bit bad about making Liam stay behind as well.

“Yeah, of course. I might give my mum a ring after you’re done, actually. She’s probably in bits, you know how mums are. I mean, I dunno if your mum’s exactly the same but…”

“She does worry sometimes,” Zayn replies, shuffling so he can cross his legs underneath himself. “I reckon I’m a bit homesick or whatever. I can’t tell her about the…” He shakes his arm a little under Liam’s loose grip. “Or the glowing. But it’ll be nice to hear her voice.”

Liam gives him a smile, just a small one instead of the full, crinkly-eyed experience. Zayn hates that he knows the difference, hates that he’s got himself all worked up over a straight boy who can’t even face the fact that they’ve kissed.

“Uh, so, I’m just gonna…” He picks up the cordless phone that Harry chucked on the bed before he left.

Liam takes the headphones and plugs it into the iPod nano Harry gave him, scrolling through it and hitting play before he hooks the headphones over his ears.

“Thanks,” Zayn says, making sure his knee nudges up against Liam’s so that they’re still touching.

“It’s no bother,” Liam says, just this side of too loud now that his ears are covered.

Zayn gives him a thumbs up and dials his mum’s number from memory. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Mum, it’s me.”

“Zayn!“ Just the way she says his name makes him close his eyes, flooded with the warmth and comfort of home. “You alright, love? Are you still at the house with the other boys? I’ve heard it’s been raining fit to drown the whole city.”

“Hi, Mum. Yeah, I’m still here. It’s okay, it’s not raining at the moment so the others have gone to get some things from the shops before it starts up again. They’re all really cool and it’s been grand actually. Mostly.”

His mum picks up on the qualification immediately, in that uncanny maternal way. “What’s the matter then, sweetheart?”

Zayn glances sidelong at where Liam’s looking intently at the iPod. He sighs heavily. “There’s someone here, like. You remember Kev?”

She tuts, disbelieving. “You’re never stuck there with Kev.”

“No, no. It’s just. Kind of a similar situation.” His mum waits him out this time. “He said he was straight from the start, but we were still… drawn to each other, you know, like even in the midst of the group it was like we just clicked.” He realises as he’s saying it that it’s true, even with the omission of their dependence on each other’s touch. “Anyway, he kissed me last night.”

“Oh, Zayn.” His mum tuts sympathetically. She knows how this goes; she’s helped him pick up the pieces after a boy’s kissed him and fled, whether it’s the morning after or three months down the line.

“Yeah. He kissed me and it was like, I thought it was something. I mean, it felt like it could have been something.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, swallowing down the lump building in his throat, keenly aware of Liam’s silent, solid presence at his side. “I know it’s silly, I do know. Like I’ve only just met him but we go to the same uni and now we’ve made friends with the same crowd and I’d like to see them all again even after this. But I don’t know how to give him space when… When we can’t go home til the storm’s passed for good and transport’s back up and running.”

He keeps talking for a while, his mum interjecting a few words here and there but mostly letting him ramble on. She’s one of the few people who hears him talk this much, straight from the gut instead of picking and choosing his words carefully.

“Thing is, love,” she says, once he’s run out of steam. “It’s not hard to imagine why he’s drawn to you, why so many people are drawn to you. Especially because you’ve got it all sorted out: you know who you are, and what you want, and when they look at you, they can see that and they think maybe if they get close enough to you, they’ll know what they want as well. But that’s just not how it works, is it? People can’t fix other people. I’m not saying don’t give him a chance, but don’t let him mess you about because he’s confused about what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says. He snuffles a little against the back of his hand. His voice sounds thick but otherwise he’s holding it together. “You’re right. Thanks, Mum.”

“Oh, what are you thanking me for? I’m your mum, it’s part of the job description.”

“Nah, but. You’re like, a proper legend.”

She laughs warmly, and he can imagine her arms around him, her lips against his cheek. “Go on with you. Get off the phone and poke your head outside while you can. And don’t smoke too much, either.”

“I won’t,” he promises. It’s the least he can do.

“Alright. Ring me again when you can. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

They say their goodbyes and Zayn hangs up the phone, taking a few deep breaths before he taps Liam on the shoulder and shows him that he’s off the line.

“All good?” Liam asks, pushing the headphones off to hang around his neck.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayn’s mostly telling the truth. His smile doesn’t waver as he hands the phone over to Liam.

***

Liam does his level best not to stare at Zayn while he’s on the phone. He’s been twitchy since they woke him, and Liam can sympathise with the desire to ring up his mum so he just goes along with everything, especially since he still feels guilty about mucking things up so badly by kissing Zayn. So he sits and fiddles with the iPod, going through Harry’s music collection – his running mix has some good beats on it, and then some of his other, nonsensically titled playlists are full of bands Liam’s never heard of, and it’s not too hard to keep himself occupied that way. Still, every once in a while he’ll glance over at where Zayn’s knee is pressed to his leg, or at the way Zayn presses his knuckles to his mouth while he’s listening.

After Liam’s taken his turn speaking to his own mum, hanging up before she has a chance to get too weepy about him making new friends, he leans across to the bedside table to put the phone back in its cradle.

“Do you want to go out to the garden till the boys get back?”

Zayn nods. “Mind if I have a fag while we’re out there?”

“Of course, yeah.”

He lets Zayn lead the way to the other bedroom and ignores the pang of disappointment he feels when Zayn doesn’t reach for his hand.

Zayn’s quick about it, hitches his shorts up over his narrow hips and then grabs his pack and lighter off the desk. They follow the neatly paved path into the garden, and Liam looks around at the low trees and shrubbery lining the fence on three sides. The branches are heavy, leaves and petals dappled with water droplets, and everything smells damp, earthy. There are no birds chirping, even though the sun is out, and Liam supposes that’s a good sign that the pause in the rain is only temporary.

The click and catch of Zayn’s lighter breaks the silence, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke cutting through the freshness of the air. Liam stares at Zayn’s back, bare except for the bird at the top of his spine. The lines of his body are so smooth and clean, golden skin and black ink, the burst of colour on his forearm.

Even before the pain has a chance to set in, it feels strange not to be touching. He reaches out for Zayn’s elbow, holding it with the tips of his fingers. He watches the smoke curl up from Zayn’s mouth on the exhale and his stomach hurts. After what Zayn said last night, he knows he’s not imagining the distance between them, the way Zayn holds himself slightly aloof even though they’re standing so close.

He sifts through his thoughts and he can’t put a name to what he feels about Zayn, but he knows it’s different from what he feels for the other lads. It’s different from how he feels about Andy, who’s been his best mate since secondary school. He feels a pull somewhere below his solar plexus, an ache that builds when Zayn keeps looking at the bird bath in the middle of the garden, resolutely keeping Liam out of his eyeline. It’s not as sharp as the pain he feels when they’ve been apart too long, but it starts to feel equally unbearable. Everything about their situation is bewildering and terrifying, and he just wants to bury his face in Zayn’s neck, but he knows what Zayn meant when he said he wasn’t the first – Liam doesn’t want to join the ranks of confused straight boys who treated him like an experiment, because Zayn deserves better than that.

Zayn stubs out the first cigarette against the steel slats of the fence and tucks the butt into the pack with delicate fingers, mindful of the fact that they’re in someone else’s garden. And just like that, Liam is sure that if Zayn were a girl he’d have no trouble admitting that he fancies him rotten, even after such a short time. As Zayn lights a second cigarette and continues looking around at everything except Liam, he feels hot with this newfound knowledge. The minutes tick by, Liam’s fingers twitching minutely against Zayn’s skin as words weigh heavily on Liam’s tongue, half-formed thoughts trying to shove their way out into the open.

The second cigarette goes more quickly, Zayn taking deep lungfuls of it like he needs it to breathe. It doesn’t make sense to Liam, who’s never done more than steal a few drags off friends on a night out, but smoking looks good on Zayn, or maybe it’s that Zayn makes smoking look good. Liam thinks for a moment that maybe Zayn is someone he wants to be and not someone he wants to kiss, but then he remembers the soft fullness of his mouth, the way Liam’s lips parted for his tongue before the earth shook underneath them, and he knows it’s not that simple.

“Ready to go in?” Zayn asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Yeah, I.” He follows Zayn to the door, pausing when Zayn is inside and Liam’s still wavering on the threshold. “Zayn.”

His face darkens, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“What you said last night…”

Zayn’s frown deepens. “I didn’t think you were awake for that.”

Liam shakes his head. “It’s okay if you don’t like me, but I’m… I’m not having a panic, or I’m not anymore, it’s not like that.”

“It’s not?”

“I don’t want it to be,” Liam says, honestly.

“What do you want then, Liam?”

The way Zayn’s voice curves around his name makes his stomach swoop, and he doesn’t stop to think, he just reaches out and tugs Zayn towards him by the shoulders until his mouth is just there, achingly close to Liam’s own. Zayn lets out a shaky sigh, and it’s enough to tip his face even closer, their lips brushing together. Liam surges into it, hands moving to either side of Zayn’s face as their mouths connect properly.

Zayn’s lips are dry and taste like ash, but they open up sweetly when Liam runs his tongue over the seam, and then he’s surprised by the heat of Zayn’s tongue, the low, pleased noise he makes. His stubble rubs at Liam’s chin, his hands locking behind Liam’s back and drawing him in until their chests are flush. The first rumble sounds like thunder, and Liam is prepared to pull the door shut behind him against the oncoming storm, but the second rumble makes the whole house shudder. Something in the lounge falls to the floor with a crash, shocking them apart, and Zayn’s eyes look back at him, wild and whiskey-coloured.

***

He hasn’t even had time to process the fact that Liam’s kissing him again before they’re interrupted by another bloody earthquake, and that can’t be a coincidence.

“Did we do that?” he asks.

Liam shakes his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. For all his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles, he feels fragile in Zayn’s arms, like he’s going to fly apart at the seams. Zayn takes him by the hand and closes the door, brings them further into the house so they can survey the damage. There’s a picture frame on the floor, the glass cracked but not shattered, and Zayn picks it up, still holding tightly onto Liam with his other hand. He’s afraid to look at him, afraid that the tremors of the earth have irreparably broken the moment between them.

There’s another rumble, and Zayn braces for it, but this time it is thunder. He looks out the windows and sees the skies open up, rain pouring down in torrents.

“Shit.”

“Do you think the others are on their way back? It’s been at least forty-five minutes, maybe an hour.” Liam sounds as worried as Zayn feels.

“I hope so. If only our bloody mobiles worked.”

His lips are still tingling from Liam’s kiss, and he feels strung out like a guitar string. The idea of the other boys being stranded somewhere else makes his pulse pick up, a jolt of fear running through him. It doesn’t help that he’s pretty sure that he and Liam are setting off earthquakes when they kiss – it sounds like a metaphor gone wrong, but the picture frame in his hand is proof that the shaking they felt was very real. He looks down at it, and under the spider web cracks it’s one of those school portraits of Harry from a few years ago. He puts the frame back on the mantelpiece and slants his gaze at Liam, feeling shy and a bit hopeless now that there’s another thing getting in the way of figuring out their feelings.

Zayn has never hesitated about owning up to his fears: heights, large birds, deep water. But when it comes to the side effects of the lightning strike, he’s not even sure what it is he should be afraid of, and that dredges up a profound sense of dread inside him. His hands are trembling; he notices it as if it’s happening to someone else.

“Zayn?” Liam’s voice has such a plummy, rich timbre to it, and his name sounds brand new in his mouth.

It’s too soon to call it more than a stupid crush, but hearing Liam’s concern for him so quickly after their second interrupted kiss makes him feel cracked wide open. He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead and immediately pulls it back, hears Liam hiss and looks down at where their palms are pressed together. His hands are starting to glow again, and it’s the worst possible thing that could be happening, on top of everything else. He lets go of Liam immediately, clasping his own hands together in desperation not to touch anything else.

At first, there is just heat. Then he looks down and his hands are actually on fire, little licks of flame coming off each finger, pooling in his palms when he spreads them open. He feels an odd sense of relief as he realises that he’s not feverish and his hands don’t feel hot, like the manifestation of the flames is some kind of release. He turns his wide eyes on Liam, whose mouth has fallen open, lips still red from kissing.

“Well, this is strange,” he says. His own voice sounds far away. He stares at his fiery hands and swallows hard. “It doesn’t hurt. It kind of… tickles.”

“Fuck,” Liam says, and it’s the first time Zayn’s heard him swear since they’ve met.

“Suppose I really am the Human Torch.”

“D’you think water will put it out?” Liam sounds equal parts anxious and awed.

“It’s worth a shot.”

They head into the kitchen and Liam turns on the tap. Zayn passes his hands under the cold stream, feeling the water smooth over his skin, but the flames keep burning merrily.

“This is a problem,” Zayn says, holding his hands together like he might be able to stifle the fire. All that happens is that the twin flames merge into one.

“Guys?”

They both freeze. Zayn’s relief that the others are home wars with his fear of revealing the new developments in their post-lightning existence.

“In here,” Liam calls.

Harry troops into the kitchen with Louis and Niall following close behind.

“Bloody hell.” Harry drops his carrier bags on the floor. “And I thought I was having a weird afternoon.”

They’re all staring at Zayn’s hands, the way the water isn’t doing anything to extinguish the fire.

“So you’re fire and I’m water,” Harry says. It sounds nonsensical, and Zayn gives him a baffled look. Harry makes a motion with his hand and the water in the tap shuts off, suddenly. “Oh, I wasn’t sure that would work. Cool.” He makes another motion and the water turns back on, and he twirls a finger around in the air so that the stream of water forms a corkscrew.

“Are you… controlling the water?” Liam asks, his face openly betraying his utter disbelief.

“Yeah, it turns out I can do that.” Harry shrugs like he’s just discovered he can whistle, rather than revealing that he has control over one of the elements.

“That’s why we’re hardly even wet,” Niall adds, running his fingers through his damp fringe. Now that he mentions it, Zayn notices that they all look like they were barely spritzed by water, even though the rain’s coming down in buckets.

“We were walking home from the shops and our Harry discovered he can move water around. He just sort of… pushed it out of the way.” Louis sounds like he’s proud of Harry, almost excited.

“Great, so you get your power and you can control it straight away,” Zayn grumbles, still holding his hands awkwardly in front of him, a safe distance from anything or anyone who could catch fire.

Harry looks him over intently, his gaze weighted and lingering. “The way it works for me is, I sort of empty my mind, like meditation, and then I concentrate on really wanting to make something happen. Like when we were walking, I didn’t do it on purpose but I was sort of spaced out and then it started raining, and the only thought in my head is that I wished I could shield us from getting wet.”

Every time Zayn looks down at his own hands, he feels a spike of fear. “How do you… Can you help me?”

Harry nods and edges a little closer. “Okay, so I want you to push all your conscious thoughts out of your head and just focus on breathing in and out with me. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Really let your lungs fill up on the inhale. Think about nothingness, blankness, in and out, in and out.”

Zayn copies the breath pattern Harry demonstrates, but a little voice in his head keeps chanting fire, fire, Liam, earthquake, fire. He struggles to focus on Harry’s voice instead, the slow, meandering drawl of it.

“That’s it, keep breathing and uh, maybe picture a blank page or a wall or something.”

Zayn’s just starting to get the hang of the breathing when he feels the first, nauseating twinge in his skull. He closes his eyes.

“Liam.” He opens them and turns his head in Liam’s direction, panicked at the thought of being hit with the full force of their shared pain.

Liam crosses the distance between them in a few steps, hand poised to touch Zayn somewhere. After a moment’s hesitation, he wraps his fingers around Zayn’s wrist, just above where the flames start, and whispers, “Focus.”

In the first moments of that touch, Liam is at the forefront of Zayn’s mind, and everything else fades out. He wishes the fire would go out so that he could touch Liam, cling to him like they were earlier, in the doorway.

“Whoa,” Niall says. “That’s incredible.”

Zayn looks down and the flames are gone. The skin of his hands looks pristine, unblemished, and his wrist looks almost delicate in Liam’s grip.

“It worked,” he says, in awe.

“Well done,” Harry says.

“Thanks.” Zayn twines his fingers with Liam’s, looking at their hands instead of at anyone’s faces. He finally looks up because he can practically hear Liam frowning.

“If you’re definitely fire and Harry’s water, does that mean… That thing with the earthquakes. Is that me?” Liam asks, looking from Zayn to Harry and then to Louis and Niall in turn, imploring someone else to come up with the answer.

“Has there been another one?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, just before my hands set on fire, we were… It happened again, knocked a picture frame down and cracked it a bit.”

“What were you doing when it happened?” Louis focuses his sharp gaze on the two of them.

“I kissed Zayn,” Liam blurts out. “Both times it’s happened, I was kissing Zayn.”

Personally, Zayn feels like the second kiss was more of a mutual effort, but now’s not the time to argue semantics.

Niall lets out a loud, surprised hoot of laughter. “You’re telling me that when you kiss Zayn, the earth literally moves?”

Liam’s gaze darts from Niall to Zayn. “Y-yes. I suppose that’s… Yeah.”

There’s a gleam in Louis' eye, an amused quirk to his mouth, but he seems to be holding back for now.

Harry starts laughing, this low, bubbling laughter that builds up 'til he’s bent over, slapping his knee. “Liam,” he says, once he catches his breath. “Do you… feel the earth move under your feet? Do you feel the sky tumbling down?”

It takes a minute for them to get it, but then Niall cackles, and Liam surprises them all by joining in, shoulders shaking helplessly.

“Oh god,” he says, pink-cheeked and crinkly-eyed. “It’s true, though, to be fair.”

“Can we get back to the bit where you’ve been kissing Zayn?” Louis interrupts.

Liam turns even pinker.

“What are you thinking about when you kiss Zayn?” Harry asks.

“What?” Liam stammers.

Zayn raises his eyebrows, silent but curious about Liam’s answer to the question.

Harry repeats himself, slowly and more deliberately. “When you kiss him, what are you thinking? I mean, what feeling are you focusing on? Because like, this whole making your mind blank thing seems to work for both me and Zayn. But if your power kicks in only when you’re doing the kissing, then whatever you’re thinking about when you do it could be the answer.”

Liam covers his face with the hand that isn’t holding Zayn’s, and after a moment, he peeks through his fingers and lets out a muffled sigh. “I wasn’t thinking about anything, I was just… doing.”

Louis looks thoughtful. “So you’re already letting your mind go blank, that’s not much help.”

“Well, it could be,” Niall says reasonably. He tilts his head towards Liam, addressing him directly. “Maybe if you don’t let your mind go completely blank, if you focus on the earth not shaking, that could do it?”

Zayn watches Liam think about it for a minute before he nods his head resolutely. “Yeah, I can try.” He darts his eyes at Zayn. “Do you mind if. Can I?”

He feels a bit weird about them kissing in front of the others, but if Liam’s game then Zayn’s not the one who’s unsure about kissing boys, so he’s not going to keep him from testing out the theory. “Yeah.”

Liam steps closer and brings his free hand up to touch Zayn’s jaw, impossibly tender and sparking that sweet twist of anticipation in his gut. He brings their lips together, and it’s more tentative than either of the previous times, less impulsive. At first, it’s just a kiss, a light press of lips that doesn’t make the earth move. Zayn thinks maybe they’ve got it mixed up and there’s some other trigger for Liam’s power, but then Liam relaxes into it properly, licking over Zayn’s lower lip and the flat edge of his teeth, prompting Zayn to tilt his head and suck on the tip of Liam’s tongue. Zayn forgets about the other boys around them, watching, and loses himself to the kiss: a blur of sensation and warmth and Liam’s large, gentle hands on him. The tremors don’t take him by surprise this time, and he’s determined not to let Liam pull away – obviously when he stops kissing Zayn, the earthquake stops, but that’s not the same as controlling it. He puts his hand at the back of Liam’s neck and tugs him down firmly, keeping the slow, drugging pace of the kiss and feeling his own mind go fuzzy around the edges again.

The tremors continue, and he can hear Louis and Niall speaking in hushed tones, Harry shushing them. Then, slowly, the ground stops shaking, even as Liam moves his tongue more purposefully, coaxing Zayn’s into a slow, electric rub against it. They pull apart slowly, and Liam’s mouth looks wrecked: his lower lip is glistening and red, the area around his mouth slightly pinked up from the drag of Zayn’s beard. Zayn has to look away to catch his breath.

“I did it,” Liam says, with certainty. “I thought about making the ground stop rumbling, like you said, Haz.”

“You did good,” Harry assures him. “Put on quite a show, too.”

Niall thumps Liam’s back, easy and affectionate. “Thought you two might start ripping your clothes off next. Not that Zayn’s wearing much.”

Zayn’s been without his shirt so long that he’d forgot he wasn’t wearing one. He shrugs, biting back the lazy grin that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth.

***

Later, they’re sat in the lounge with the news saying they hope to see the storm conditions let up the next day, at which point TfL will have an update on when they can get public transport back up and running. Liam thinks about all the people who were stranded at their work, the people braving the rain and lightning in their cars to get home or get out of London, who aren’t comfortably camped out in a house like Liam is, surrounded by his new mates. He wonders if anyone else is experiencing what they are: unexplainable abilities and codependent bonding. Things are even weirder now that Harry’s discovered his power, but at least they’ve got some sort of handle on controlling it. Identifying what kissing Zayn makes him feel makes things click into place. Everyone’s always said that Liam is too tightly wound, that he takes everything too seriously, that he needs to learn to relax. When he kisses Zayn, his brain goes quiet. He’s still not sure why that sets off the earthquakes, although Zayn is a really good kisser, but at least now he knows how to stop them once they start.

Zayn gives Liam’s waist a squeeze, tugging him closer on the loveseat but with a loose enough grip that Liam could easily duck out from the crook of his arm. “Are you freaking out? It’s alright if you are. It’s a lot, yeah?”

He’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he likes a boy, that he likes Zayn. He thinks back to being sixteen and desperately alone, about how only two people came to his birthday party, about how scared he was of getting knocked about. After he’d learnt to run fast, taken up boxing and learnt to throw a punch like he meant it, things had got better, but it hadn’t stopped the name calling or the hissed insults in the changing room. He’s glad he didn’t meet Zayn back then – he wouldn’t have known what to do with someone like him. He still doesn’t really, but he can try.

Liam lets his shoulders go loose, chasing that warm feeling he had just after they broke the kiss and he’d successfully stopped the tremors from turning into a full-on quake. He puts his arm carefully around Zayn’s bare shoulders, feeling the warmth rising from his smooth skin, studying the sharp angles of his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw.

“I think I’m okay,” he says. “Are you? Freaking out.”

“Nah, babe. I’m good.” Zayn doesn’t flush the way Liam does, but his shoulders go up and he bites his lip after the endearment slips out. “Shit. Uh.”

Liam thumbs over his sharp jawline, watching the rapid beat of his unbelievably long lashes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t usually go calling guys babe straight after we kiss,” he mumbles, clearly still embarrassed.

“Oi, what are you two talking about?” Louis pipes up.

“How I’m gonna kick your arse at FIFA,” Zayn says, quick to push aside the awkward moment. He offers Liam a quick, private glimmer of a smile.

Predictably, Louis rises to the challenge, and they pull up the game on the screen. They volley insults back and forth as they play, and Zayn stays snugged up under Liam’s arm the whole time. Every so often, he tips his head back onto Liam’s shoulder and smiles at him upside down, and Liam can feel himself relax just a little bit more each time. He dips his head forward a little and it’s not like he means to, but Zayn’s hair is right there when he inhales, and he smells nice – not like a girl at all but like warm skin and a hint of smoke, the artificial fruit scent of the Haribo he was eating earlier. Liam likes it, likes how much easier it is to touch Zayn now that they’ve mostly sorted themselves out. Here, in Harry’s house, among these boys, he feels safe enough to ride this out and put off worrying until later.

***

After their FIFA tournament and dinner, they all sprawl around the lounge talking. Harry’s stretched out between Niall’s and Louis' laps, resting his head on Niall and dangling his legs over Louis, and Zayn’s curled up against Liam’s side, both of them leaning towards one side of the loveseat.

“If the rain does stop tomorrow, we’ve got to get back to… the outside world,” Harry says, in the low, droning voice that’s become incredibly familiar to Zayn already.

“Yeah, I reckon they’ll want us back in our lectures and whatever,” Zayn agrees, thinking it over. “At least we’re all in the same general area, like. If there’s anything strange it’ll be quite easy for us to meet up. I mean, you’ll have the furthest to go, Harry, but it’s only like half an hour from here to where I live, yeah?”

“We should have some sort of weekly meeting,” Liam says, with a stubborn jut of his chin like he’s expecting to get shot down.

Zayn watches him carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“We could do,” Niall says, agreeably.

“Do we have to make like an appointment to see each other, though? Seems a bit stupid, really,” Louis starts, and Liam’s lips draw together in a tight line. “I mean couldn’t we just do it whenever? You two’ll be joined at the hip anyway, so I reckon we’ll just set up a group messaging thing and hang out when we’ve got free time?”

Zayn shrugs but he can feel himself smiling. “Yeah, alright.”

“You mean, like just hang out as mates?” Liam’s voice is quiet.

“Yes, you donut.” Harry says, turning an incredulous look on him. “Do you not want to be friends with us or something?”

“No, no, I do. I just… didn’t know we were.”

He looks so pleased and bashful at that, Zayn wants to kiss him again immediately. Sometime he’s going to have to ask Liam what happened in his past to make him so unsure of everyone else’s intentions, but not yet.

It’s not much longer before Harry’s yawning, stretching his mouth out huge and setting off the rest of them.

“Been an eventful day, lads,” Louis says.

“You can say that again.” Niall rubs at his eyes, wet after his yawn.

“Been an eventful day, lads,” Harry parrots.

Louis gives him a delighted smack on the thigh and Niall shakes his head and says, “Terrible.”

“Everyone for bed, then?” Louis asks, after the short ensuing scuffle.

“Mm, yeah.” Zayn’s looking forward to being alone with Liam again now that there’s no more awkward tension hanging between them. Of course, he knows that most likely the whole house will know when they kiss, but hopefully they can get that under control more quickly this time. They need to do more kissing as practice, really. Zayn’s a bit curious what would happen if they took things further – he’s willing to find out, for science, but he doesn’t want to push Liam out of his comfort zone now that they’re in such a good place.

They stand up and Liam rubs the dip of his back with one of his large, warm hands, sending sparks up Zayn’s spine.

Everyone says their goodnights in the upstairs corridor. Zayn gives Harry a hug, because he’s the one who figured out how to work their new abilities, and everyone ends up crowding in together. Zayn makes sure he gets an arm around Liam, tugging him in so he’s not hovering at the edge of it.

They brush their teeth together, standing so close that Zayn’s elbow keeps grazing Liam’s left arm and chest the whole time. Once they’re alone in the bedroom with the door closed, Zayn gets that half-nervous, half-excited flutter that’s a telltale sign he really likes someone.

Liam worries at the hem of his t-shirt like he’s not sure if he should keep it on or take it off. Zayn smiles warmly at him, tongue tucked up against the back of his teeth, and Liam shakes himself a bit and takes his top off. The muscles in his shoulders shift distractingly, his biceps flexing when he folds up the t-shirt and puts it aside. He takes off his trousers next, and Zayn cheerfully tugs down his shorts. They’ve done this already, sleeping next to each other in just their pants, but it’s different now that he knows the taste of Liam’s mouth, the sweet give of his lower lip.

Zayn sits on the bed and pats the space next to him. Liam comes willingly, turning towards him with a hopeful look on his face that makes Zayn’s smile widen.

He takes Liam’s hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles. “Do you want to try and see if you can control it again?”

***

Liam wants to laugh when Zayn asks him. He feels like he’s in school again, discovering how good kissing – proper kissing, not the clumsy, too-wet kind – is for the first time. He’d wanted to do it over and over again then, spent hours with Dani draped over him until his lips were half-numb and the inside of her mouth had the same nothing taste as the inside of his own. That’s what he wants with Zayn now, and he should be afraid of it, he knows that. It should be weird to want a boy, but it’s not, because Zayn is sweet and clever and kind, unexpectedly funny under his quiet exterior, confident in his own way and completely unapologetic about being just as geeky as Liam is.

Instead of laughing, he smiles and nods, a quick jerk of his head. Zayn turns into him, the heat of his body so close, and gently presses a palm against the centre of his chest. Liam startles a little when Zayn levers him down onto his back on the bed, their feet still planted on the floor. Zayn braces over him and waits for him to relax, a delighted flicker of a grin crossing his face when he sees it happen.

“Alright?” he asks.

Liam tips his face up in answer, and Zayn bends down, fitting his mouth over Liam’s perfectly. Liam thinks hard about stillness and calm, the ground staying flat and unbroken. It’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t the slippery softness inside Zayn’s lower lip, but he does his best, and the earth doesn’t shake so much as it shivers, settling in the next moment as he concentrates. His eyes snap open when he realises he’s done it, eased the earthquake down before it really started, and he meets Zayn’s gaze, amber eyes looking darker in the lamplight.

He doesn’t want to say anything to break the moment, so he lets his palms slip up along Zayn’s sides instead, feeling out the lean shape of him. Zayn settles over him like he knows it’s okay, Liam’s okay. Their lips meet again and this time Liam gets a bit bolder, sweeps his tongue along the edges of Zayn’s teeth, tracing from the sharp point of one canine over the flat front teeth to the other. The corner of Zayn’s mouth tastes a little more strongly of toothpaste than the rest, mint bursting across Liam’s tongue. He nips at Zayn’s bottom lip, sucks on it and feels it plump up in his mouth. They kiss until Liam starts to feel drunk off it. The only thing on his mind is Zayn and the constant chant of _stay still, stay still, stay, still_.

It’s a while before he notices that Zayn’s gone tense under his hands, the muscles in his waist pulled taut. Liam breaks away to pant damply against Zayn’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Zayn angles his hips further away from Liam and shakes his head, letting out a soft, indistinct hum. Liam lets him roll off him onto his back, his side still pressed all along Liam’s from shoulder to thigh. It’s not until he looks down and sees Zayn push the heel of his hand against the front of his pants that he gets it.

“Oh,” he says, feeling his cheeks get hot. “Really?”

“Sorry,” Zayn mutters. He adjusts himself and then spreads his hand low on his belly.

“No, no, don’t be.” Liam rolls onto his side so he can look at him properly. “That’s… wow.”

“You’re a good kisser,” Zayn says, defensively. “Your _mouth_ , Liam.”

Liam can’t help the grin that stretches across his face, his eyes going squinty with it. It’s difficult not to feel smug about getting Zayn – cool, collected, gorgeous Zayn – all worked up from just kissing. He ducks down to kiss him again, a soft open-mouthed press, and rubs his palm across his chest.

“We should keep doing that. Practising, like.”

Zayn laughs, relaxed again now. “Yeah, we should.”

“Tomorrow, though, okay? We should sleep now.” He keeps his hand on Zayn’s chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against his palm.

Zayn nods. “Yeah, okay, babe.”

Liam thrills from his toes to the tops of his ears. He never thought hearing another guy call him ‘babe’ would make him feel like this, so warm and wanted and cared for.

Zayn sits up halfway and shifts about so he’s on the bed the right way ‘round, wiggling under the covers and waiting for Liam to do the same. As soon as Liam’s head hits the pillow, he feels the weight of sleep press down on him. He only hesitates for half a second before he wriggles closer, tucking Zayn’s head under his chin and wrapping his arms around him.

“Goodnight, Liam.” Zayn’s nose brushes against his collarbone, and his breath is a warm sigh across Liam’s skin.

“Goodnight, Zayn.”

***

Zayn wakes up early for maybe the fifth time in his adult life. Sunlight is streaming through the curtains, weak but unmistakable, and he can hear birds chirping. He sits up carefully, trying not to jostle Liam too much, and looks out the window at the pale blue sky. He hugs his knees to his chest, thinking about last night, about Liam’s plush, decadent mouth and the wide span of his fingers along Zayn’s ribs, the dip of his waist. The kick of arousal he felt when Liam was spread out underneath him was a shock to the system, his whole body thrumming with it. He hopes he still gets to have it again, even though the rain has stopped and they can probably get back to their own flats today.

He’s hunched over, chin on his knees, thinking about the logistics of maintaining constant physical contact with Liam in the outside world. Liam isn’t even closeted; it seems like he genuinely didn’t know he could be interested in the same sex until now. Zayn would be proud of that fact if it didn’t come with so many strings attached, with these extraordinary circumstances. Will Liam let Zayn hold his hand in public, or will they have to limit themselves to surreptitious touches that don’t read as too gay? If they find a cure for the touch dependence, will Liam still want anything to do with him? He feels weighed down by the uncertainty, like he has a millstone around his neck.

The brush of Liam’s fingertips over the notches of his spine is so feather light, he doesn’t even register the touch at first, not until Liam’s reached the middle of his back, where he’s curled in on himself.

“Good morning,” Liam says, his voice gravelly and hushed, and Zayn shivers. It’s not cold.

“Hi.” He turns his head, resting his cheek on his kneecap so he can look sideways at Liam.

The long parts of his hair are standing up in tufts, his face pillow-creased and slightly puffy. He looks young, unguarded, like he hasn’t woken up enough to put on his armour for the day. Zayn stares at him and wants.

“You alright?” Liam whispers.

“Mm, you alright?”

“It’s not raining.” Liam’s voice brightens and grows a bit louder. Somehow they can both sense that it’s stopped for good, unlike yesterday’s brief reprieve.

“Yeah. We should go find out when they’ll have transport running.”

Liam hums his agreement, tapping his thumb against the base of Zayn’s spine. “Come here,” he suggests, almost turning it into a question.

Zayn twists and settles on the bed, moving slowly and carefully, and Liam pushes himself up on one elbow over him. Things are going to change soon, but for now they’ve got this. Zayn curls his hand at the back of Liam’s neck and watches him lower his face for a kiss, keeping his eyes open until they almost cross, Liam’s face a blur of eye and nose. His lids flicker closed as he parts his lips for Liam, the first sleep-bitter taste quickly fading as they say good morning with their lips and tongues. The trembling of the earth is so slight, Zayn can almost imagine it’s just his body shivering again.

They part reluctantly, but Liam offers him a squinty, apple-cheeked smile and Zayn takes his hand and tugs him out of bed.

“My, my, how the tables have turned,” Liam teases.

Zayn sticks out his tongue and chucks him a t-shirt, yanking the other one down over his head. As much as he’d like to stay here and pretend things will stay the same, he knows they have to face reality sometime. Better to rip it off straight away, like a plaster.

Niall’s sat alone in the kitchen when they come in, resting his cheek against the worktop next to a bowl of Weetabix and milk. He raises a hand in greeting, and Zayn sneaks up behind him to give him a hug.

“Hiya Zayn,” he says at last, amused and fond.

Liam reaches over and ruffles Niall’s hair. “Morning.”

“Early. Woke up to the birds singing like a bloody Disney cartoon.”

Zayn huffs out a laugh and nicks Niall’s spoon from his slack fingers, eating some of his cereal before Niall bats him away, the spoon falling back in the bowl with a little splash.

“Have you checked anything yet? Weather, news, transport?” Liam asks, an edge of business-like efficiency creeping into his voice.

“Nah. No rush, is there? Thought I’d just wait until the rest of yous was awake.” Niall sits up and resumes eating.

Zayn fits himself under Liam’s arm and smiles up at him. “You okay to wait for Harry and Lou, or should we turn on the TV now?”

Liam takes a moment to consider. “It’ll keep.”

Zayn grabs bowls for them and Niall pushes the box of Weetabix across the counter, the carton of almond milk. Liam goes for the utensils, and both Zayn and Niall gape at him when they realise he’s given Zayn a spoon but is using a fork to eat his own cereal.

“What are you doing, lad?” Niall asks, incredulous.

“Er…” Liam looks embarrassed. “I’m like, a bit afraid of spoons? Not like, _afraid_ afraid, but I don’t like to use them when I’m not at home?”

They’re in the midst of interrogating him about it, Niall’s voice getting louder as he keeps laughing at Liam’s explanations and Zayn scrunching up his nose as he snickers, one arm looped through the bend of Liam’s elbow as he eats cereal wrong-handed, when Louis and Harry trudge into the kitchen. Harry’s bleary-eyed but Louis is preternaturally alert, demanding that Niall prepare bowls for him and Harry both. Niall rolls his eyes a little but he does it anyway, smiling cheerfully by the time he presents them with their breakfast.

Harry brings out his laptop and they find that all systems should be up and running by afternoon, although their normal bus route has been temporarily replaced by a different bus, merging two routes running through the same areas.

“It’ll get you near enough Mornington Crescent, yeah?” Harry asks.

Zayn nods and points out the general area of his flat. “Yeah, that’s good for me.”

Liam leans over Zayn’s shoulder and says, “Oh! That’s really near me as well.” He sounds excited as he points to a spot on Crowndale Road, nearer the tube than Zayn’s flat.

Zayn can’t help smiling at him. “We’re neighbours. Makes it easy for you to go get things from your flat, yeah?”

Liam rests his chin on Zayn’s shoulder while Louis and Niall sort out whether they should get off at the same stop or a few stops further down towards Euston.

“Good,” Harry says with finality, closing his laptop. “That’s all sussed then.”

“Are you pouting, Harry?” Niall asks, teasing but fond.

“Shut it.”

“Aww, Harold’s going to miss our sleepovers,” Louis coos, leaning in and making fish lips at him.

Harry pushes him away with his whole hand over Louis' face, but they’re both laughing, and Niall’s laughing hardest of all, and then Zayn and Liam crack too. Somehow they all end up in a pile on the kitchen floor, elbowing each other – Louis bites down on Liam’s shoulder, making him yelp like a wounded puppy. Zayn soothes over the red mark with a kiss, and Louis makes fake retching noises.

They get up at last, everyone gathering up their stuff from the bedrooms, stripping the sheets off the beds and piling together the clothes they’ve borrowed from Harry over the past few days. Harry declines Liam’s offers to help him tidy up more than that, and they all press in for a group hug before they leave.

The bus stop isn’t the same as the one where they met, and Zayn’s thankful for that, not sure if he wants to see the warped plastic, the visual evidence of how close they came to being struck down instead of developing strange powers. There’s a few other people at the stop with them, and Liam puts his arm around Zayn’s neck, hooking his hand around so it grazes the exposed skin between his jacket and his shirt collar. It’s subtle enough that no one would automatically assume that they’re more than just mates, and while Zayn doesn’t mind the subtlety, it does give him pause. He worries about how they’re going to play this off now, and whether Liam will get overwhelmed if things progress beyond kissing.

He doesn’t notice the arrival of the bus until Liam gives him a light shake and steers him towards the front doors. He whips out his Oyster just in time to press it against the reader, the two of them following Louis and Niall to the back of the bus. There aren’t very many people on it yet, so they manage to claim four seats together in the back row.

Zayn looks out the window, ignoring Louis and Niall’s banter, although he can feel Liam’s voice reverberate against the back of his shoulder when he joins in. He’s relieved to be going back to his, and confident that he won’t be seeing the last of these boys anytime soon, but he doesn’t like the nagging voice in the back of his head that says that nothing will ever be the same again. He used to dream about having superpowers as a kid, and it had always seemed like the excitement would be worth the responsibility, but it doesn’t even feel like they’ve got real, useful powers. They should probably test it out more, but unlike Liam, he doesn’t know a surefire way to make his hands turn into flaming torches.

He leans his head back against the seat, and he’s grateful when Liam doesn’t say anything to him, just strokes the nape of Zayn’s neck with his thumb as they rattle down the road.

***

Liam is starting to understand that Zayn is quiet in a different way than when Liam goes quiet: not because he doesn’t fit in, but because he needs his own little bubble of space so he can think. After just a couple of days with all of them, he’s learnt a lot about the language of touch as well. He’s not quite sure he’s got it all right yet, the balance between casual violence and spontaneous affection, the biting and face slapping along with the cuddles. Touching Zayn is the easiest, in part because it’s a necessity and in part because Zayn is the gentlest of them. He’ll engage in some roughhousing, jump on someone’s back or slap their bum, but he doesn’t throw himself into it the way Louis and Harry, and even sometimes Niall, do. When Liam wraps his arm around Zayn’s waist or touches the back of his neck, he feels like they’re communicating in the same language.

It’ll be different now that they’re not just at Harry’s, though. He’ll have to get past his friends without arousing any suspicion – not that he thinks Andy and Maz would be knobheads about it if he genuinely came out to them as gay or bisexual or whatever, but because he’s not sure what he is or what his thing with Zayn is yet, and he doesn’t want to go through all of that with them before he knows. The important thing is that he likes Zayn, and he thinks Zayn likes him too. He’s willing to figure it out alongside figuring out their powers: how they work, how to control them, what purpose they have.

He asks Louis and Niall the question in a low voice, and he can feel Zayn shift a little next to him, clearly listening even if he’s not joining in the conversation yet.

“I dunno. It could be more like something went a bit wonky with nature, don’t you think?” Niall lifts his snapback and scratches at his hair before pressing it back down.

“What I wanna know is why me and you,” Louis gestures between himself and Niall, “haven’t got them as well. It seems rather unfair, really.”

Liam is so used to being the one left out that he feels apologetic now he’s on the other side of it. “You might be better off without. They’re a bit inconvenient, aren’t they? Anyway, you don’t know… you could have something and just not know it yet.”

“Could be. I still hope me power’s flying.” Louis grins like a shark and reaches down to twist Liam’s nipple.

In his efforts to dodge Louis' fingers, Liam leans into Zayn’s space, jostling him against the window.

“Sorry,” he says, wrapping a protective arm around Zayn’s shoulders. They’re in public, and he gets a bit nervous once he starts thinking about what it might look like, but they’re in a group and it’s an innocent gesture, less obviously intimate than holding hands. He thinks it’s probably alright.

The bus moves down through Camden, slowing down as they hit a spot of traffic, typical for the area although there are fewer vehicles out than usual. The streets are waterlogged, gutters full and rubbish and debris piled up on the pavement. A few shops are open but otherwise the area is far less busy than he’s ever seen it, even on a bank holiday.

It’s not much farther to their stop, and Liam reluctantly says goodbye to Niall and Louis, who sneaks in another nipple pinch before he lets him go. He slips out of his seat and presses the button while Zayn takes his turn hugging the other boys.

Liam puts his arm around Zayn again, his thumb hooked inside the stretched-out collar of his t-shirt as they walk briskly down the road. There’s an awkward moment outside his building when Liam hesitates before asking Zayn if he wants to come in.

“Nah, I’ll just…” Zayn taps his pack of cigarettes against his palm.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll be really quick, say hello to my flatmates if they’re around and then grab clothes and stuff. Really quick, I promise.”

He’s halfway up the steps when he thinks, fuck it, and jogs back down to press an impulsive kiss to Zayn’s cheek. As he unlocks the door and goes inside the building, he sees Zayn’s lips curled into a pleased smile around his cigarette. Liam takes the stairs two at a time, up to the second floor, jingling his keys.

“Liam?” Andy calls out, as soon as he steps inside.

Guiltily, he realises he’s been hoping no one would be in, even though he really ought to check in – he’s not spoken to his other friends since the first night at Harry’s house.

“Yeah, it’s me. You alright?”

Liam steps into the lounge and Andy thumps Liam quite hard on the back. It makes more sense to Liam now, how that gesture is meant to convey affection. He gives Andy a little punch in the arm.

“Alright. You’re not dead, that’s cool.” Andy follows him down the corridor to Liam’s bedroom.

“Mm, I’m great, just gotta grab a few things and head out.”

Liam fills a bag with a couple of t-shirts, a relatively clean pair of jeans and a pair of joggers, underwear and socks. Almost as an afterthought, he grabs his laptop. Andy stands in the doorway while he retrieves his toothbrush from the bathroom.

“Where you off to? You just got in.” His tall frame blocks Liam’s way, not threatening but definitely intentional.

“I know, I just… I’m staying with someone for a while.” It feels easier to tell at least a partial truth than to make up a whole lie. Liam definitely didn’t think this through enough.

Andy’s eyes light up, equal parts delighted for Liam and latching onto something he can make fun of him about. “You met someone, didn’t you? Oi, Maz is gonna laugh at you, shacking up with some bird as soon as the storm lets up.”

Liam doesn’t correct Andy’s assumption. “Me phone’s damaged, like I said, but I’ll text you as soon as I get a new one.”

He knows he’s running short on time, so he pinches Andy’s side so he’ll move, squeezing past him and heading through to the lounge again.

“Someone’s got a lot bolder since he got laid,” Andy teases him. “The old Liam never would’ve pinched me. That what they taught you up in Belsize Park?”

Liam shrugs and they share a smile, and he does feel a bit bad running out on his best friend of years and years like this, but time’s running out quickly.

“Get your fucking phone fixed or sorted or whatever, though, really. You’re living in the dark ages, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will. Promise.” Liam shifts from one foot to the other, itching with impatience.

Andy rolls his eyes. “This is so like you. One taste of pussy and you’re proper cuntstruck. Go on then, get out.”

“Yeah, cool, I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” He’s halfway out the door before Andy can say anything else, checking for his keys before he shuts the door behind himself.

As he hustles down the stairs, he can feel the pressure building in his skull, getting worse with each bouncing step. It feels like it takes him forever to get to the main door, jagged slices of pain making him stumble along.

His stomach drops out when he gets outside and doesn’t see Zayn where he left him. He calls out for him through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in an attempt to focus on something beyond the skull-splitting agony.

He hears a low keening noise and heads in that direction. He finds Zayn crouched in the little fenced in area his neighbours have for their rubbish, cupping his hands together and making soft, hurt sounds. The relief he feels when he touches Zayn’s cheek is immeasurable, and the sudden receding of pain brings tears to the corners of his eyes. He hears Zayn let out a shaky breath as well.

“Why are you–” Liam starts to ask, but when Zayn opens his palms, it’s clear why he was hiding out of sight: a thin wisp of smoke rises from his hands, his hands still redder than usual.

“My hands started burning while you were gone,” Zayn says. “I’d just got it under control when the pain hit. Thought it was about to start up again, but you got here just in time.”

Liam swallows around the lump in his throat. “Sorry, my mate Andy was in, he wanted to know where I was going. I tried to hurry.”

“I know,” Zayn says, kindly, even though he’s trembling a little.

Liam helps him up and pulls him into a tight hug. “Back to yours now?”

Zayn nods. 

***

As they walk the few streets over to his flat, he’s got his hand loosely wrapped around Liam’s wrist now, pleasantly surprised that Liam doesn’t try to pull away, just like he was surprised by the kiss on the cheek earlier. He’s suddenly really excited by the thought of being surrounded by his things, his clean clothes, his own bed. It’ll be good to see Ant and Danny too, but mostly he wants to have a hot shower and climb under the covers.

The flat’s quiet when they get in, which isn’t surprising on a Friday afternoon. The lamp in the entryway is on, and all the bedroom doors are propped slightly ajar, but otherwise everything is dark and still.

“My flatmates won’t be home till late,” he tells Liam. “They like going out more than I do.”

He tugs gently on Liam’s wrist, pulling him towards his bedroom door, which he pushes all the way open. After he jams in the doorstop to keep it that way, he makes his way to the windows and pulls the blinds up halfway, letting in the weak afternoon sunlight that filters through a layer of clouds.

“You can put your bag anywhere,” he says, looking around to see if he’s left anything embarrassing out. “Sorry it’s a bit of a tip.”

“You’re alright,” Liam says.

He places his holdall on the desk chair and looks around at the few things Zayn has up on the walls: a Scarface movie poster, a print of Alex Maleev’s Hellboy art, some flyers he’s done for his friends’ bands, a framed collage of family photos that his younger sisters put together when he first left home. Zayn dumps some of his obviously dirty clothing into the hamper, and it reminds him of his desire for a shower.

“I was thinking… Maybe we could have a shower and – I dunno if you’re tired at all, but I thought maybe a nap and then we’d go get our phones looked at before dinnertime?”

Liam turns his head away from where he’s squinting at the photographs of Zayn’s family. “You look a lot like your dad,” he remarks. “But yeah, a shower sounds brilliant, and if I can’t get to sleep then I could always just check my emails or something, I don’t mind sitting still while you kip.” His smile is sincere and accommodating, like he really won’t be put out if Zayn sleeps instead of entertaining him.

“Cool. Well, the bathroom’s just there, so if you’re quick about it, we can just top up when you get out – I’ll keep an eye on the clock and knock if you’re about to go over.”

Zayn feels a bit bad that they’re reduced to four-minute showers. He prefers to stay in there longer himself, and there’s a possibility that Liam might do as well.

“Yeah, no problem. Which towels should I use?”

“Here, let me get you a clean one.” Zayn shows him into the small bathroom and tugs one of his towels out of the cupboard.

“Cheers.”

The transition between Liam’s shower and Zayn’s goes quite smoothly. Liam comes out smelling fresh and clean, water still clinging to his shoulders, and Zayn takes both of his hands in his own. After a while, Zayn goes into the steam-filled bathroom while Liam gets dressed in his own clean clothes.

Brief as it is, the shower leaves Zayn feeling warm and loose-limbed, and a nap really does sound like the perfect thing. He comes back into the bedroom to find Liam sitting on his bed with his laptop balanced on his knees. It has stickers on the top, around the glowing apple logo, so he knows it's definitely not his own.

“Hi,” Liam says, reaching out his hand. His smile is a small, closed-lipped thing, just between them.

Zayn takes his hand as he flops onto the bed, landing somewhat on a diagonal. Liam lets out a laugh as Zayn scrabbles one-handed at the duvet before he manages to peel it back and shimmy underneath.

“Mm,” he says, muffled into the pillow. “You gonna stay up then?”

“Nah.” Liam closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Nothing all that interesting in my email, is there? I’ll just ring up my mum again once we’ve got our phones sorted.”

“Mmhmm.” Zayn wriggles under the covers a bit more, eyes half lidded as he waits for Liam to get settled.

Pretty soon, he’s got Liam snugged up beside him, their knees bumping and his hand sliding up the back of Zayn’s shirt to palm at his skin.

“S’nice,” he murmurs.

Liam’s breath is warm against Zayn’s face when he huffs out a soft laugh. “Yeah?”

In lieu of an answer, Zayn nudges his nose against Liam’s and presses their lips together. It’s meant to be a peck, a greeting before he dozes off, but Liam tilts his head just so and pulls Zayn a little closer, his tongue slick and hot in Zayn’s mouth. He slides his arm under Liam’s and presses it to his back from elbow to fingertips, his whole body buzzing with the awareness of Liam’s solid presence. Their legs slot together as the kiss deepens, his mouth opening up for Liam, the continuous wet rub of their lips sparking low in Zayn’s belly. The flat remains mercifully still, nothing shaking except for the slight creak of the mattress springs when they move.

The taste and feel of Liam’s mouth is intoxicating, and Zayn can’t help rocking against his thigh where it’s wedged between Zayn’s legs. Liam nips at his lower lip, his chin, and then plants kisses along his jaw, mouthing at the delicate skin of his neck. He sighs, tips his head back to let Liam keep kissing him there, his stomach clenching when Liam finds the sensitive spot just below his ear and sucks at the skin. He wiggles his hips, feeling a sweet zing of pleasure at the friction. He’s half hard now and he knows Liam can feel it; Zayn’s waiting to see what he does next.

Liam surprises him by skating his hand down Zayn’s back to his arse and squeezing, making Zayn rub up against him some more, and when Zayn shifts his own legs, he feels a telltale bulge in Liam’s trackies that lets him know he’s not alone in being affected. He feels like a desperate seventeen-year-old again, rutting against a pillow or anyone who’s willing, ready to go off at the slightest change in the wind. It’s just that Liam’s mouth is so lush and inviting, nudged up against his jaw right now, his tongue a wet flicker against the underside of it. The way he kisses with such abandon, even though Zayn knows he’s focusing at least part of his brain on not setting the tectonic plates shifting beneath them, is exactly what Zayn needs, what he craves.

He tests the waters with a slow grind against Liam’s thigh, his breath hitching until he hears Liam’s soft groan of pleasure, his own hips rising to meet Zayn’s downward push. They start moving together, a little jerky at first and then getting smoother as they both adjust to the same rhythm. Zayn can’t hold back the little ah, ah, ah noises in his throat, and Liam’s breathing has gone harsh, gaspy like he can’t quite get enough air into his lungs. It’s been a long time since he’s got off just like this, but he knows he can, will if they keep this up. The hot coil of pleasure in the pit of his stomach keeps growing, winding tighter as it builds towards release.

He wants to say something out loud, to tell Liam how good it is, how sweet and lovely he is, but he can’t quite reach the words. He huffs at Liam’s throat instead, kissing his bobbing Adam’s apple, the coffee coloured birthmark beside it. Sweat collects in the dip between his collarbones, mixing with the clean damp from the shower, and Liam smells like Zayn’s shampoo and body wash, familiar but subtly different on him. Zayn wants to bite him, wants to test the give of his skin under his teeth. He holds off as long as he can, chasing relief with each screwing rock of his hips against Liam’s body, and then all his muscles lock up as he comes in his pants, his mouth latching onto the long muscle of Liam’s neck where it meets his shoulder. He hitches forward a few more times, until it’s almost too much, his muscles going lax as his cock twitches with sensitivity.

Liam whines a little when he feels the bite of Zayn’s teeth at his shoulder, but then he grabs Zayn’s arse with both hands and ruts against his stomach, coming with a loud groan. He looks gorgeous, the veins in his neck straining slightly and his red mouth gone slack. The earth shivers, just a tiny tremor as Liam’s control slips for half a second, but it passes in the blink of an eye.

“Fuck,” Zayn whispers, licking over the indentations of his teeth in Liam’s reddened skin. He didn’t bite down that hard, he doesn’t think, not enough to leave a mark for longer than an hour at most. He kisses blindly at him until Liam takes the hint and meets him halfway in a messy kiss, both of them still breathing hard.

“That was…” Liam lets out a long whoosh of air. “That was fucking incredible.”

 

The come cooling inside his boxers feels disgusting already, and he’s sure Liam’s not much better off, but he’s still riding that good, loose feeling, warm everywhere that they’re touching.

“Let’s get naked,” he suggests, pushing away from Liam just enough so he can strip out of his t-shirt and underwear, chucking them to the floor.

“This all seems a bit backwards,” Liam says, in a pleasant tone of voice, but he’s getting out of his clothes too.

Zayn helps him out with his top, mostly as an excuse to touch his perfectly defined abs.

“You’re really fit, in case you didn’t know that already,” he says.

Much to Zayn’s delight, Liam blushes even pinker than he did in the middle of sex, the tips of his ears burning with it.

“What are you like, you’re just. I mean, thank you, but.”

Zayn strokes Liam’s cheek until he stops stuttering out half sentences.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Zayn,” he says, so earnestly that Zayn has to kiss him straight away.

When they pull apart, softly breathing the same air, Zayn’s eyelids are heavy, the need for sleep coming on stronger after his orgasm. “I really like you,” he tells Liam, “but I’m about to fall asleep on you.”

“Okay,” Liam says, barely above a whisper.

He tucks the duvet around them and holds Zayn close, and it’s not long before they both fall asleep.

***

When Liam wakes up, Zayn’s managed to tuck his face into Liam’s armpit, which is a bit weird but he did just have a shower before they, well. Liam’s cheeks heat up as he remembers Zayn’s wide hazel eyes and the unbearable openness of his face when he came, the way his own release hit him like a freight train while he was rubbing up against Zayn’s stomach through their clothes. He shifts Zayn so he’s pillowing his cheek on Liam’s chest instead, smiling when the other boy doesn’t even stir.

For someone who’s never so much as had a crush on a bloke before, Liam’s spent a lot of time staring at Zayn over the past few days. It’s a bit easier to look at him straight on when he’s asleep like this, mouth slack and eyelids shuttered over those indescribable hazel eyes. He looks softer, with his hair flattened around his face, thick black eyelashes fluttering minutely against the top of his cheeks. Liam thinks he might still be straight, most of the time, just with a serious Zayn-exception to the rule; he’s never wanted anyone, boy or girl, like this.

He’s a little bit embarrassed about the fact that he got off humping Zayn like a poorly trained puppy, and in the middle of the day, no less. But he still feels really good, all dopey and sated like he only gets after sex, buzzing because Zayn said he liked him. They’re naked, and there’s so much of Zayn’s bare skin for him to touch that it’s overwhelming. Liam sticks to the parts of Zayn that are above the edge of the duvet: he presses a kiss to Zayn’s forehead, rubbing his thumb slowly over his shoulder.

Eventually, Liam tilts his wrist where it’s resting on Zayn so he can read his watch. It’s four. He can’t remember if the Vodafone shop on the high street closes at five-thirty or six-thirty, assuming they’re open as usual, and he thinks they should probably head out soon – he’s not sure which mobile provider Zayn has either. He gives Zayn a gentle shake, speaking in a low voice.

“Zayn? Come on, wake up.”

To his amusement, Zayn turns his head away, his nose resting against Liam’s arm. Liam shakes him a little more.

“Hey, come on, babe. Let’s get up now.”

Zayn lifts his head, eyes still mostly closed, and sticks his lower lip out. It’s unfairly cute.

“That’s it. We’ve gotta go see if we can get our phones fixed or replaced or whatever.”

He sits up, dragging Zayn into a seated position along with him. Zayn lets his arms flop around like wet noodles. Liam can’t help laughing at him.

“You’re ridiculous. I didn’t know you were like this all the time, I just thought you were really tired back at Harry’s.”

Zayn lets out a grunt but sits up properly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Maybe you just tired me out,” he mumbles, blinking owlishly at Liam. He cracks a sly smile when Liam’s cheeks go warm.

They get up and get dressed. Liam looks away politely when Zayn hops out of bed to find a clean pair of pants. He has to lean over to get at his clothes on the chair, and he turns around after putting on his underwear and jeans to catch Zayn staring at him, his lip between his teeth. Instead of looking embarrassed, Zayn breaks into a smile when he notices he’s been caught out.

Zayn takes quite a lot of time with his hair now that they’re back at his, styling it up into a quiff at the front and brushing the sides back with product rubbed between his palms. It’s sort of soothing to watch, Liam standing behind him with a hand on his hip, one side of his t-shirt rucked up enough so they’ve got skin against skin. The effort pays off, because Zayn looks amazing even when his hair’s rain-wet or sleep-mussed, but it’s something else to see him all sleek and perfectly styled, pulling on a plaid shirt and his leather jacket over a black t-shirt and jeans.

Fortunately, both the Vodafone and EE shops are open, and they manage to get first Liam’s, then Zayn’s iPhones replaced. He ends up paying the discounted rate for an early upgrade, while Zayn winces as he puts down his credit card up front and gets all the paperwork to submit to his gadget insurance later. It’s embarrassing how much of a relief it is to have a working mobile again, even though he still needs to go back to Zayn’s and load all the content off the cloud over wifi. He hopes the others have their phones by now, too, so they can all text and stuff like they’d said.

They pick up a takeaway for dinner: curry and samosas and chips. Zayn gets out real cutlery for them and grins knowingly when he hands Liam a fork and no spoon. Liam ducks his head, but he thinks it’s nice that Zayn remembered – the morning already feels like it was so long ago.

After dinner, they take turns ringing their mums, holding hands while one of them talks and the other stays quiet, picking at the last of the chips. It’s comfortable and domestic in a way that Liam really doesn’t mind, as if they’ve known each other for ages. They put on the television and end up watching an early episode of Friends, one they’ve both seen more than once. Zayn settles onto his back on the settee and pulls Liam on top of him. He makes a surprisingly good pillow, given how lean he is, and he seems to really enjoy playing with Liam’s hair, fluffing at the longer bits at the top and rubbing his fingers through the buzzed sides. It nearly soothes Liam to sleep.

Zayn pokes him in the calf with his socked toes when the channel they’re watching stops playing Friends and starts playing the Big Bang Theory instead.

“Let’s go to my room,” he suggests, offering up the remote control like there’s a chance Liam might say no.

Liam takes it and turns off the television set. When they get to Zayn’s bedroom, he shuts the door and turns on the lamps by the desk and the bed instead of the ones overhead, keeping the lighting low and intimate. He moves into Liam’s space again, putting his hands on Liam’s hips.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” Zayn says. “But I thought maybe we could lose some of the clothes and just… I want to kiss you, but with less clothing.”

He’s not shy about it, but he is cautious, like he doesn’t want to push Liam out of his comfort zone. It’s gentlemanly in that way that Liam’s always tried to be with girls, and he wonders for a brief moment if that makes him the girl in this situation, but no, that’s stupid because neither of them are girls, that’s kind of the point.

“Okay.”

He takes the lapels of Zayn’s red plaid shirt in his hands and carefully strips it down his arms, letting him shake it off at the end, and then pulls up the hem of his t-shirt, both of them laughing when he gets stuck with his arms overhead.

“Oops,” Liam says, kissing Zayn’s cheek once his head reappears.

Zayn gestures for Liam to take off his own top as he unbuttons his jeans and yanks them down, skinny legs emerging from the pile on the floor. He tugs off his socks and then drops slowly to his knees, making Liam’s mouth go dry. Zayn unzips Liam’s fly and works his jeans down his hips, aided by the fact that they’re already riding low on his bum. Liam feels all wound up even though they haven’t done anything yet, just watching Zayn kneel in front of him and run his hand over Liam’s calf as he helps him step out of the puddle of denim.

Zayn stands up and Liam just lets himself look like he hasn’t dared to before, eyes roaming over Zayn’s bronzed skin and the patchwork of ink along his torso, the full sleeve on one side and the tiger on his other shoulder. There’s a dog or a wolf on his shin that he hasn’t had a chance to look at properly yet. Once he’s scanned over the tattoos, he gets caught up in all the ways Zayn’s body is different from his own: the way his broad shoulders taper into such a narrow waist, his little nothing hips, his arms and legs wrapped with lean muscle. In boxing terms, he’s a welterweight to Liam’s middleweight: strong but light enough for Liam to pick him up with ease.

“You gonna stand there staring at me all night? I don’t mind, but I thought there might be more kissing involved.” Zayn’s smile is already so familiar, nose scrunched up and tongue behind his teeth, a fondness in his eyes that makes Liam grin back at him.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls at Zayn’s hand, getting him to walk over. Zayn straddles his lap with an enviable, easy sort of grace, balancing his forearms on Liam’s shoulders. Once he’s settled properly, knees on the mattress, their faces are level, and Zayn brushes the tip of his nose against Liam’s in greeting.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he whispers back.

Liam is hyper-aware of the points of each of his fingertips resting against the skin of Zayn’s hips, his little fingers brushing against the waistband of his plain black boxer briefs. Zayn breathes out across his mouth, and there’s a hint of curry and fragrant cardamom in it, not strong enough to be gross, and anyway it’s the same taste that’s already on his own tongue. Zayn wets his lips and Liam presses up into him, their lips meeting in the middle. The kiss is slow and deep, and Liam’s got the hang of maintaining that little bit of control over his powers while thoughts of Zayn occupy the other 95% of his brain.

Zayn shifts in Liam’s lap, his arse rubbing against Liam’s cock. It sends little shockwaves of pleasure up his spine, his mouth opening up to Zayn even more, and Zayn responds with a little body roll against him that makes his cock thicken in his pants, two thin layers of fabric not enough to desensitise him. He grips Zayn’s hips more firmly, encouraging his movements.

“Fuck, is this okay?” Zayn asks, panting and clinging to Liam’s neck.

“Yeah, don’t stop.”

Liam catches Zayn’s lower lip in his mouth and sucks on it, tonguing the slickness along the inside of it and the flat edges of his bottom teeth, the slight irregularities where they’re not perfectly straight. Zayn keeps hitching his hips forwards and backwards, practised in a way that makes Liam blush deeply when he thinks about it.

“Can we…” Zayn flattens his palm against Liam’s chest and pushes a little, indicating what he wants.

Liam somehow gets the message and lowers himself back against the bed, Zayn cupping the back of his head and bracing with his other hand so that they don’t bounce too much. It’s still not the smoothest transition, but then Zayn rolls his hips against Liam’s straining cock and everything else stops mattering. The constant friction and the lithe, warm boy in his arms send him crazy, and it’s not long before he’s right on the edge, struggling to keep it together a little longer.

Liam’s hips jolt at the unexpected touch of Zayn’s hand on his cock, shaping over the length of him through the clinging cotton of his underwear. Zayn scoots back on Liam’s thighs so he can rub over the tell-tale wet spot where he’s leaking steadily. He skates his palm over it, back and forth a few times, and the friction of the fabric against the sensitive head makes him whimper, lifting his hips against Zayn’s hand.

“Mm, that’s it,” Zayn praises, repeating the motion, and that’s all it takes for Liam’s body to go numb and hot, tingling all over as he comes.

He musters up every last ounce of concentration to keep from letting go entirely. When he manages to open his eyes and look up, Zayn has his hand down his own pants, his mouth falling open as he wanks himself. His face is flushed, his fringe matted against his forehead where he’s sweating, and he looks absolutely gorgeous. Liam strokes his hips and alternates between watching his face and the blur of his hand, the occasional peek of pink, wet head. He feels Zayn’s thighs tense around his, sees the way his stomach clenches as he tips over the edge. It’s beautiful, watching him completely undone, the low whine that escapes as he wrings come from his dick onto his fist.

“Shit. Ah, fuck.” Zayn groans, sinking back onto his heels, arse pressed against Liam’s thighs.

He rests there for a few seconds, and then stands up on wobbly legs, stripping out of his underwear and wiping his hand on them. Zayn’s fingers are clumsy but gentle as he works Liam out of his pants as well. Liam helpfully lifts his hips and grits his teeth a little when Zayn dabs delicately at his spent cock with a dry corner of his boxers.

Once they’re cleaned up, Zayn hustles Liam under the covers, tugging and pushing until they’re settled together, Zayn spooning up behind him even though he’s smaller. He hooks his chin on Liam’s shoulder and kisses the corner of his mouth. Liam strokes the arm Zayn’s got wrapped around his middle with his fingertips, turning his head to make it a better kiss.

They kiss lazily until they’re both knackered, unable to fight the onset of sleep any longer. Zayn yawns against Liam’s mouth and Liam laughs before he kisses his nose, tells him goodnight.

***

Zayn wakes up to find the other side of the bed body-warm but empty. His bedroom door is ajar, and if he cranes his neck, he can see the closed bathroom door. He thinks (he hopes) Liam is in there, brushing his teeth or having a shower. When he looks at the clock, he’s pretty sure it must be Liam, since there’s no way his flatmates would be up before eight on a Saturday morning. Even so, Zayn doesn’t like to wake up alone, not when he’s got used to seeing Liam beside him first thing.

He lets himself worry a little bit, thinking again about what will happen when they get a handle on the touching thing – they’ve figured out their other powers and it stands to reason that they’ll figure this one out too. He doesn’t know if Liam will still want to be close to him; it seems like he likes Zayn well enough, but then he didn’t say it back when Zayn said it, either. The idea of going back to life without Liam, or worse, adjusting to a life where they’re ‘just friends’ makes something hot and ugly rise up in his throat like bile.

Reaching over to the bedside table, he unlocks his new mobile and looks through his contacts at the other boys’ numbers, which he’d transferred from his email yesterday. He sets up a group message and texts everyone: “hi :)”

He’s only a little startled when Liam’s phone buzzes next to him. It’s early, earlier than he’d usually be up, so he doesn’t really expect a response until later, but his phone and Liam’s go off at the same time, showing a seemingly random string of emoji from Harry that includes the smiling cat, two pine trees, and for some reason, a banana. Zayn doesn’t know what to make of it, so he just texts back: “miss us yet?”

“Yeah, dead quiet here. Parents not back till next week,” Harry responds, followed by a row of crying cat faces.

“we’ll hang out soon aha :)” Zayn writes, and then adds a kiss at the end.

He puts his phone down next to Liam’s before Harry’s next reply comes through, looking up as Liam tiptoes into the room, fully clothed, with his hairline still wet from washing his face.

“Hey, you’re up,” he says, smiling.

Zayn nods, pushing down the prickly, anxious feeling he’s got again as Liam sits down on the edge of the bed and puts his large, warm hand over Zayn’s knee where it’s poking out from the tangle of sheets and duvet in his lap.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, just sent a text to the boys. Harry’s up too, for some reason.” He shrugs. “I suppose I should brush my teeth too.”

What he really wants to do is pull Liam back into bed and kiss him, but he’s shy about the fact that Liam’s all minty and he’s still got morning breath.

“Okay,” Liam says, moving out of the way so Zayn can get out of bed.

It’s awkward, all of a sudden, everything slightly left of centre, and Zayn quickly tugs on a pair of loose boxers before he heads for the bathroom.

When he comes back, Liam is sitting on the bed with his mobile, staring at it with a look of concentration on his face. He lifts his head to greet Zayn with a big, crinkly-eyed smile.

“Harry’s so funny. He uses way too many emojis, but I’m trying to send some back to him.”

Zayn sits down next to him, pulling the covers into both their laps and leaning over to look at Liam’s screen.

“Do the one with the tongue sticking out. No, that one,” he says, pointing.

The texting goes on for a while, until Zayn takes the phone away from Liam and sets it aside. Liam looks at him with gentle bemusement, his face open and trusting. Zayn kisses him on the mouth, stroking the side of his neck with his thumb, and Liam responds eagerly. His fingertips find the groove of Zayn’s spine and trace it all the way up to the top. Zayn shivers, clinging to Liam’s strong shoulders until he gently presses Zayn down to the mattress and keeps kissing him, bleeding the tension right out of him. They lie there quietly, Liam pressing his forehead to Zayn’s as they share the same warm puffs of air. It feels like something, but he’s been wrong before about boys who kiss like they mean it and then walk away like it’s nothing. There’s a guilty part of him that hopes they don’t find a solution for the touch dependence, so that Liam can’t leave him, but he knows deep down that’s not what he really wants. He wants Liam to stay because he wants to, not because he can’t walk away.

“What are you thinking?”

Liam noses at the hollow of Zayn’s throat and he must feel it when Zayn swallows a mouthful of air.

“Just, you know. Wondering what the key is to our little…” He doesn’t want to call it a problem, so he lines his hand up with Liam’s instead, palm to palm, all five of Zayn’s fingertips touching all five of his.

“Yeah. I dunno, we’ve done a lot of touching and it still hasn’t gone away. I think Louis might’ve had it wrong.”

“You can tell him that in person. Hopefully we’ll get to see them all today, yeah?”

Liam hums in agreement as Zayn tucks his chin against the top of his head. They’ve become so comfortable with each other in such a short span of time, almost unbelievable if he thinks about the way Liam held himself stiffly apart at first. It’s brilliant to see how much he’s opened up, how he’s opened Zayn up as well. He just wishes he could stop missing it before it’s even over.

***

There’s something on Zayn’s mind, Liam can tell, but he doesn’t want to push because he’s not sure what he’d be able to do about it, anyway. He thinks back to when Zayn was lying in Harry’s sister’s bed, hands burning up, and Niall made him laugh and joke about with him. Liam doesn’t have that ability to put people at ease. If he’s honest, he’s worried that Zayn will figure out what a fraud he is: he’s not funny or clever or very good at talking to people, and Zayn is… well, he’s all of those things and then some. Liam thinks that if you took everything he’d ever wanted in another person and squeezed them into an unbelievably attractive body, that’d be Zayn – and yes, he’d always pictured that person being of the female persuasion, but he thinks they’re quite a bit past the point where he can stay hung up on that detail.

Zayn’s quiet through breakfast, but he keeps his arm hooked through Liam’s as they stand over the kitchen island and eat scrambled eggs and toast. Just as they’re putting their plates in the sink, one of his flatmates walks into the kitchen and pauses mid-yawn to barrel over and wrap his arms around Zayn.

“Hey, you’re back. Safe.” He has the same Bradford accent as Zayn, and similar colouring as well.

Zayn nods. “Got back yesterday afternoon. This is Liam. Liam, this is Danny.”

Danny offers Liam his fist, and Liam gives him an awkward little bump. When Danny looks between them, mouth working like he wants to say something, Zayn shakes his head and Danny shrugs. Liam doesn’t begrudge them their silent communication, just cups his still-warm mug of tea in his hands and lets them catch up.

To his credit, Danny includes Liam in the conversation as he explains, “My brother met this bird last night, yeah, and he was like, snogging her on the kerb in front of the club – I mean, full on, like we’re in fifth form or summat.” He pretends to gag. “Couldn’t even wait to get to hers, I swear I thought I was gonna have to separate them till the cab showed up.”

When Zayn laughs, it lights up his whole face, the moodiness from earlier wiped away so thoroughly that Liam wonders if maybe he was just tired, not all the way awake yet. Zayn leans into him and shares his smile with Liam, prompting Danny to poke Zayn in the ribs and mutter about Ant not being the only one to pull last night.

“Technically, it wasn’t just last night,” Zayn says, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Ooh, Liam, did he put the moves on you early? Bat his long eyelashes at you? D’you know what though, our Zayn talks a big game, but he’s more sensitive than he lets on,” Danny tells Liam in a conspiratorial stage whisper. There’s something about the way he says it that makes it clear it’s not just a joke to make Zayn squirm, that it’s a bit of a friendly warning, too.

Liam knows he’s not the cleverest, but he can put together the pieces – people have hurt Zayn before, and it makes him wonder if that’s what his brooding is about, if he’s still worried that Liam’s going to be like the rest. He wants to tell them both that he’s not, that it’s far more likely that Zayn will get tired of him before Liam ever gets it in his head to walk away from someone as brilliant and wonderful as Zayn. He settles for ruffling Zayn’s sleep-mussed hair and nodding at Danny.

“Yeah, he looks all tough with his leather and tattoos, but I know he’s a soft touch,” Liam says, lightly.

Zayn makes a face and ignores them both, looking down at his phone instead. “The lads want to meet in half an hour. Better watch out, Dan, or I’ll be replacing you.”

“You’d never.”

The brightness of Zayn’s grin could light up a stadium. Liam thumbs at the thin skin behind Zayn’s ear, trying not to look too desperately fond in front of his flatmate.

Back in the privacy of the bedroom, he watches the lean planes of muscle in Zayn’s back shift as he rummages through his wardrobe.

“You okay?” Zayn asks, with his back still turned.

“Er, yeah,” Liam answers, out of habit, even though he doesn’t really know why Zayn’s asking.

“I mean, are you okay that Danny knows about…” Zayn turns over his shoulder and makes a quick gesture between them.

“Oh, yeah. It’s no bother. I mean, he was cool so it’s alright.”

Zayn tugs on a slate-coloured jumper and turns around, nodding. “I’ve known him and Ant since we were kids, like. They’ve seen me through a lot of shit.”

Liam struggles to smooth out his smile so it doesn’t look pinched. “Must’ve been nice, growing up with friends like that.”

“Yeah, it was nice knowing I wasn’t totally alone, like at school and stuff. It wasn’t the easiest time.”

He nods vigorously. He can’t imagine anyone being cruel to Zayn, but he knows that kids pick up on what’s different, and even if all of Zayn’s differences just make him seem unique and lovely to Liam, that’s not always how it works in school.

“Me either, like.” Liam’s voice sounds small even to his own ears. “I used to get hit and. I’ve only been mates with Andy since nearly the end of secondary, yeah, so before that I was… I didn’t have very many friends.”

He swallows hard and looks down at the floor, afraid to look up and see the pity in Zayn’s eyes, the dawning realisation that Liam’s been a loser his whole life. Instead, Zayn’s narrow feet creep into his line of vision, and then he’s got strong, skinny arms wrapped around him.

“I would’ve been your friend,” Zayn says against the shell of his ear, his voice quiet but firm.

Liam tries to laugh off the moment, but it comes out as a strangled little sound. Zayn’s arms tighten around him. He doesn’t usually tell people about his past, about the bullying and the constant fear of being punched, the things they’d shout at him in the halls even after the hitting stopped, the sixteenth birthday party that only two people showed up to. He doesn’t know why he’s told Zayn, really, but it feels like a relief not to keep pretending he’s anywhere near cool enough for Zayn or the others.

Against his better judgment, he tucks his face against Zayn’s neck and confesses, “That’s why I don’t know how to… how to be, around people.”

He can feel Zayn shake his head, his beard bristling against the grain of Liam’s hair.

“You’re dead wrong. You’ve only been taking care of me from the moment we met, and you’re so level-headed and like, kind and brave and a bit nerdy like me. I dunno what people have told you in the past, but just you being you is brilliant, from where I’m standing.”

It’s too much. Zayn’s words and the sincerity in his soft voice unravel the knot in Liam’s stomach so quickly that he feels completely undone. He can’t speak for the lump in his throat, and no matter how quickly he blinks, he can’t hide the way his eyes have gone wet. Zayn must feel the dampness on his skin. Shame twists in Liam’s belly as he clings to Zayn while he sniffles, but he doesn’t want Zayn to stop holding him, either. It’s been so long since anyone else held him like this and he feels starved for it, for everything Zayn will give him even though he’s crying like an absolute pillock.

Zayn just rubs his back and lets him cry silently, mouth pressed up against Zayn’s soft woolly jumper. When Liam finally pulls himself together, Zayn swipes his thumbs under Liam’s cheeks and cups his face.

“Dunno where that came from,” he says. He sounds as snotty and disgusting as he feels.

“You’re alright,” Zayn says. “Just go splash some water on your face. You still wanna see the boys, yeah?”

Liam nods mutely, still feeling embarrassed. Zayn peeks out into the corridor to check Danny’s not standing there, and then gives Liam a gentle push towards the bathroom.

The water from the taps is ice cold, and he splashes it on his face before he blows his nose into his hands and rinses it all down the drain. He scrubs his hands with the Carex by the sink and then dries off.

By the time he gets back to the room, Zayn’s got his jacket on and he looks ready to go. He’s left his hair flat around his head, thick and wavy, and his smile is the nicest thing Liam’s ever seen.

“There you go, all sorted.” Zayn takes his hand a presses a dry, warm kiss to Liam’s cheek.

Liam grabs his phone and wallet and then they’re off. They might be a few minutes late, but the Costa where they’ve agreed to meet the others is only a short walk. He doesn’t even think to question it when Zayn holds his hand the whole way.

***

Seeing Liam cry is awful, but being the person he confides in and who gets to rub his back until he’s calm – that part makes Zayn’s heart feel like it’s grown three sizes. As he walks down the street, hand in hand with Liam, he feels like he’s walking taller, like he’s got everything under control for the both of them.

It’s only been a day, but something about walking into the cafe and spotting the other three sat around a table feels like coming home. There’s a sense of rightness to the five of them all in the same place that Zayn can’t explain but doesn’t question, either. He sits down on a plush armchair next to Louis and tugs Liam down onto his lap, letting him perch on Zayn’s knees even though there’s another perfectly good chair across from them. If anyone thinks it’s weird, they don’t say anything, and that seems to relax Liam. Harry pushes a pair of iced lattes over to them, shrugging off their thanks with a pleased little smile.

Louis clears his throat dramatically, commanding their collective attention. His eyes are bright, as he says, “I have an announcement to make.” He drops his voice to a loud whisper, containing it to their little circle. “See, as it turns out, I was just a bit of a late bloomer, and I do in fact have a power of me own. Pause for dramatic effect… I can control the wind.”

“When did you figure that out?” Harry asks.

“It was just this morning,” Louis says. “I was walking back to me flat from the off-licence and this gust of wind blew right past me and then it started doing a twirly whirly thingy in front of me. There was something a bit weird about it, like when Harry pushed the rain away, so I remembered what you taught Zayn and Liam about focusing your attention, and I made it start swirling the other way ‘round, anti-clockwise. Sent it up into a tree and scared a few birds, actually.”

He laughs giddily, and so does Niall. It’s easy to join in, a low smattering of laughter going around the circle.

“So that’s the four of yous all set with your powers then,” Niall says.

Zayn feels oddly disappointed that Niall doesn’t have one as well. They all look down at their drinks for a moment.

“But you might still have one, you know.” Liam reaches all the way over the table and pats Niall’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be too disappointed about it yet, Nialler.”

Niall shrugs. “Nah, who says I’m disappointed? Maybe I don’t want to be some sort of weatherman freak, eh?”

“Oi, watch it,” Louis says. “Or I’ll whip up a hurricane to send you to Kansas.”

“You mean send him to Oz. It’s like, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Harry counters, “so it’d have to be sending him away from Kansas, not to it.”

Louis shrugs dismissively. “Point is, until Niall discovers his own sick power, he’d best be nice to those of us who can control the elements.”

The word strikes a chord with Zayn. “Hang on, that’s it. We’re like, the four elements so far. Earth, wind, fire, water, yeah?”

“Hang on, does that mean Niall is Leeloo Multipass?” Harry asks.

Liam tips his head to one side. “You mean like in the Fifth Element? The girl with the orange hair.”

Niall lets out a delighted guffaw that Harry echoes. Zayn feels amused and fond as well, but he’s trying to concentrate on what Liam’s saying.

“Milla Jovovich. She’s well fit,” Niall interjects. “I dunno if I could pull off the strappy outfit though.” He mimes where the bands of white fabric would cover his chest.

“Yeah, but it would work, wouldn’t it? Niall being the human element. That’d be five.” Zayn looks around the circle. “I think the ancient Greeks thought the fifth element was something else, though. I’d have to look it up, but it’s like… energy, almost? Celestial energy.”

“D’you hear that, Niall? Your power might be celestial energy,” Louis says.

“Well, he does have the face of an angel,” Harry says, chucking Niall under the chin and batting his eyelashes at him.

Zayn feels sweetly embarrassed on Niall’s behalf, like it’s a bit much for him that Harry’s making such a fuss but he’s pleased by the attention at the same time.

It just feels so nice, all of them together again, trading banter and speculating about their powers. Zayn eventually looks it up on his new phone, and Wikipedia confirms that the Greeks believed the fifth element was heavenly aether or quintessence, while Buddhists define it as emptiness and Hindus think of it as consciousness.

“Any way you look at it, it seems like the fifth one’d have to be something to do with like, spirit,” he says, choosing his words carefully.

“I dunno how you’d measure that, though,” Harry says. His brow is furrowed in either confusion or concentration.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Niall shrugs.

Zayn feels a flicker of dread and then a burst of optimism – there’s nothing they can do, after all, until whatever ability Niall has manifests itself.

“It’s basically been like a power a day, yeah? So we might only have to wait till tomorrow to find out,” Liam says, giving Niall an encouraging smile.

“Right, so why don’t we all meet up tomorrow, once Niall’s become part of the heavenly host or what have you?” Louis suggests. “I’ve not got any plans yet.”

“What about the Heath? Might be sort of crowded of a Sunday, but we were really near there when we got hit by lightning and everything...” Harry looks around to gauge their reactions.

“I bet you just want us to meet near you. But it does sort of make sense, returning to the scene of the crime,” Louis says.

Zayn shrugs. “Fine by me. I think the buses are back to normal now, or there’s always the tube to Belsize Park.”

“We could meet at the tube and all walk up together,” Harry says.

“Yeah alright,” Niall agrees, and then it’s settled.

Liam gives Zayn’s knee a little squeeze as if he’s letting him know that he’s on board with the plan as well, and the two of them share a quick, private smile. Zayn just wants to keep making him smile like that. It hurts his chest, how much he wants from Liam. He knows it’s too much, too soon but he doesn’t know how to stop the wanting, now that it’s lit up inside him like kindling on a hearth.

***

Niall turns around to face Liam while Zayn is talking to Harry about doing some research – it seems the two of them have paid the most attention in school when it comes to the arts and humanities, so they're divvying up the reading between them.

"Alright, Payno? I can nearly hear you thinking."

Liam shakes his head too quickly. "S'nothing, really. Just wondering what it's all for, do you know what I mean?"

There's a flicker of sympathy in Niall's eyes as he nods. "It's all a bit fantastical, yeah. Like Harry Potter or something, but at least there the magic has rules. We dunno nothing about anything, do we?"

"And like, why us out of everyone? There was loads of lightning strikes during the storms. I mean, maybe there are other people we don't know about. I dunno if it's the kind of thing you'd go to the news about. We definitely haven't."

"One thing at a time, yeah?"

Niall pats Liam on the back, and Liam feels the worry lines in his forehead smooth out. He can't believe he's been missing out on this for nineteen years: the easy reassurance in another person's touch, the warmth behind it, these new people in his life starting to fill up the cracks inside him, both the ones he knew he had and the ones he didn't. It's nothing against Andy or his other mates, and honestly school and college weren't that bad after he took up boxing and bulked up enough to not be such an easy punching bag, but it's different with these four boys.

He can tell Zayn's touch from Niall's without even trying, the light stroke of his fingertips between Liam's shoulders bringing him back down to earth.

"Ready to go? I thought we could get dinner."

Liam nods and lets Zayn guide him away, waving at the others.

As they pass by the giant fuck-off cats outside Greater London House, Zayn ducks his head like he’s shy and asks, "Do you fancy Pizza Express?"

"Yeah, that sounds alright." His stomach growls at the prospect of dough balls dipped in garlic butter. "More than alright."

They end up at the small Pizza Express in Camden, across from Dublin Castle. They get the sharing order of dough balls to start, and then Liam has a pizza while Zayn has the spaghetti bolognese. Zayn scoots his chair around to the side of the table so they can touch forearms, with Liam eating left handed so they don’t have to break contact. Throughout the meal, Zayn looks down at his hands a lot and fidgets in his seat. He seems nervous, although Liam can’t work out why. It hits him halfway through his main course, the pizza sitting like a stone in his stomach when he realises what it must be: Zayn doesn’t want to kiss him anymore. He must be working up the nerve to say it, to explain that they’ll still stick together as long as they have to, but Liam’s too inexperienced, too straight, too boring. He imagines Zayn’s careful voice saying the words, _I think it’d be easier if we were just friends_.

He hunches his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller, curling in on himself like that might make it hurt less. Zayn pauses in the middle of a story about his younger sister, Waliyha, and Liam has to wrench his gaze up to meet his. It figures that Zayn would take a break from his fidgeting just in time to notice something’s wrong with Liam.

“Are you okay?” Zayn asks, his expressive face lined with concern.

“Yeah.” Liam picks up his glass of Coke and takes a too-big sip, coughing against the fizzy feeling in his throat. “Course, I’m fine.”

Zayn’s frown deepens, and his mouth works like he’s trying to choose his words, and Liam can’t bear it anymore.

“Look, whatever you’re going to say, you can… Let’s just have it, yeah?”

His voice comes out sounding harsher than he means it to, raspy with barely checked emotion.

“Oh.” Zayn bites his lip. “Okay. I was just wondering, like. I’m not actually very good at casually sleeping with people? Like I’ve been there, done that, and if I’m honest, I’d usually rather just date someone properly. But I know it’s probably weird for you, since I’m the first guy you’ve, um, been with. I mean, not that we’ve done that yet, like full sex.”

It’s honestly quite difficult for Liam to keep up with what Zayn’s saying, his voice gone all mumbly and slow, but it doesn’t really sound like the lead up to letting Liam down easy. He walks his fingers along the table until he can catch Zayn’s hand, solidifying the point of contact between them from the light press of their arms to a proper grip, and he waits patiently for Zayn to reach his point.

Finally, Zayn takes a deep breath and says, all in a rush, “I was hoping maybe you’d want to give it a go, us dating properly instead of just messing about.”

It’s so completely the opposite of what Liam is expecting that his face does this complicated surprised frowning thing, and he catches himself just as he realises what it must look like to Zayn.

“I…” Liam starts.

“No, it’s stupid. Never mind. I didn’t mean to be clingy and that, only I just…”

Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand, shaking his head. “No, Zayn, listen. You’re right, it’s new for me, dating a bloke, but this is already, like it’s so far past casual already, don’t you think? I don’t just want to get off with you.” He blushes, deeply regretting his decision to make Zayn speak up while they’re out to dinner instead of in the privacy of Zayn’s flat. Something strikes him then, and he can’t hold back a laugh. “Is this… Are we on a date now?”

Zayn’s nose scrunches up when he laughs, almost noiseless but transforming his face into an impossibly lovely picture of delight. “Would that be alright if we were?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think that’d be good.” Liam feels all the tension and uncertainty slowly drain out of him, and he can see it mirrored in Zayn’s body language, the way he grips Liam’s hand back. “Bit sneaky of you to take me on a date to ask me if I want to date you, though.”

That draws an actual, out loud laugh from Zayn. “Maybe a bit.”

They finish up their meal quickly after that, and Liam puts up a half-hearted protest when Zayn pays the whole bill, insisting that this was his date idea and Liam can ask him out next time. He still has a lot of questions, like whether this makes Zayn his boyfriend or if there’s a different stage of dating before boyfriends, but he’s feeling comfortable and way more confident as they leave the restaurant, and it’s easy to just put his arm around Zayn’s shoulders as they walk down Parkway back to Camden High Street. No one even bats an eye at them – they are in Camden, after all – and it makes Liam feel a little bit invincible, walking down the street with someone as warm and lovely and brave as Zayn under his arm.

***

Back at Zayn’s flat, they find Ant and Danny playing video games, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps open between them.

Ant lights up when he sees Zayn, and he’s reminded of just how long it’s been since they’ve been in the same room.

“Hey,” he says, grinning back at him.

“Welcome home,” Ant says, shifting his gaze to Liam, openly appraising. “I’m Anthony.”

“Hi, nice to meet you, mate. I’m Liam.”

Liam steps away from Zayn in order to offer Ant his hand. Ant throws Zayn a smirk as they shake, a little silent ‘who is this guy?’ in response to Liam’s manners.

“You’ve got a massive love bite on your neck,” he points out.

Ant shrugs, unembarrassed, and goes back to playing the game.

“I’m scarred for life,” Danny tacks on, one eye on the screen and the other on Zayn. “This one was about five seconds from taking his kit off and having it off on the pavement.”

“Sod off,” Ant replies, over the noise of his character shooting at Danny’s character.

Zayn laughs and steers Liam towards his bedroom, leaving the brothers to their good-natured bickering and their game. It’s comforting to close the door and still hear them in the other room, their familiar presence making him feel at home.

Liam sits down on the bed, smiling up at him, and that feels familiar too. He has to keep reminding himself that it’s been less than a week since they met, Liam’s worried face looking down at him when he opened his eyes. Liam watches him now, as Zayn crosses the short distance between them and steps between his spread knees, bending down to kiss him.

Kissing Liam doesn’t feel any different now that they’ve decided they’re dating, but Zayn feels different, feels safer knowing that the rug isn’t about to be pulled out from under him. Liam keeps surprising him, has done since the first time he kissed Zayn, and each surprise makes him think maybe he can trust him, this boy who came out of nowhere and keeps saying yes, I can try, yes.

He rubs the longer hair at the base of Liam’s skull, teasing his tongue with his own. Warmth pools in his belly as Liam runs his big hands up and down Zayn’s back, rucking up his jumper to touch his hot, bare skin. Desire unfurls its wings inside him, beating against the inside of his ribcage and making his clothes and his skin feel too tight. He pulls back from Liam’s mouth, panting, and looks down at his beautiful, open face.

Zayn wants so much. He wants to get Liam out of his clothes and kiss every inch of him, find out all the places where he’s sensitive, find out how to get him to moan and whimper and breathe out Zayn’s name like a prayer. He wants to grind up against him again, but properly naked this time, he wants to sink to his knees and take Liam into his mouth.

“I want,” he starts to say, the rest of the sentence caught somewhere between his heart and his throat.

“Yeah,” Liam responds, his eyes dark and his mouth wet. “Anything, Zayn.”

He fumbles with Liam’s clothes until he gets the picture and starts to take them off himself, kicking aside his jeans as Zayn steps out of his own. He doesn’t bother taking off his jumper and pants yet, just hooks his fingers in the waistband of Liam’s boxers and asks, “Yeah?”

Liam nods, and Zayn peels the fabric down his hips, down his thighs, giving him a gentle push back onto the bed. He sits and Zayn follows, then keeps going, getting to his knees on the ground, his hands coaxing Liam’s thighs apart. Liam stares down at him, licks over his lips once, twice. Zayn smiles up at him before he takes his first proper look at Liam’s dick, half hard and fattening up further under the weight of his gaze. He has a nice cock, well-proportioned and uncut, and Zayn wants him so much.

Zayn nuzzles against the sparse hairs on Liam’s thigh and presses a kiss there, then another a bit higher up. Liam smells clean and body-warm, a hint of dark musk in the crease of his hip. Zayn kisses him there too, rubbing his hands up and down Liam’s legs to relax him. His own heart is beating rabbit-quick as he wraps his hand around the base of Liam’s cock and gives him several careful, dry strokes, just rolling down the foreskin to expose the pink head. He breathes over it, watching it fill out more in his hand, watching Liam’s face through his eyelashes. He plants an open-mouthed kiss over it the tip and feels Liam’s full-body shiver around him, guides him into his mouth in one long, slow motion until his lips meet the circle of his fist. He bobs his head over Liam’s cock, working the shaft with his right hand and kneading Liam’s inner thigh with his left. When he pulls off, taking a shaky breath and continuing to stroke him, his dick is much wetter, saliva and precome slicking the way of his hand, making obscene noises in the quiet room. Zayn tongues just under the crown, catching a sticky strand of precome.

“You taste good,” he tells Liam, watching his cheeks flush and his eyes darken.

“Thanks,” Liam replies, his intonation rising a little like it’s a question.

Zayn wonders if it’s the first time he’s heard that, if he’s got head from a lot of girls. Jealousy flares up in him, quick and bright, and he tamps it down, refocusing on the task at hand.

“Tell me what you like.”

He thumbs cautiously over the head, not sure if he likes the direct stimulation or if it’s too much. Liam gasps and shudders again.

“Fuck, that’s… Your tongue.”

It’s incoherent but Zayn gets it, repeats the motion of his thumb with the flat of his tongue this time, and it earns him the sweetest low groan from Liam, who doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, rubbing them over Zayn’s jaw, along the sides of his neck, his shoulders. Zayn licks sloppily over the head a few more times, and then shifts his grip on the shaft so he can lower his head and lick from the seam of Liam’s balls up along the vein at the underside of his cock. Liam’s dick pulses in his hand, his balls drawing up tight against his body, and Zayn gets back to sucking, taking as much of him into his mouth as he can. He’s not going for full on pornstar here, just wants to make it good and watch Liam unravel, so he makes a tight seal of his mouth and sucks and sucks, his hand working over the last few inches at the base. Liam digs his toes into the carpet, his calves going tight and his thighs flexing. Zayn moves his free hand up, skating over the tautness of Liam’s abs.

“Zayn. Zayn, I’m gonna…” Liam squeezes Zayn’s shoulder in warning.

He keeps bobbing his head until Liam cries out and Zayn’s mouth fills with warm, salty liquid, always a little hotter than he expects, with that hint of chlorine that makes him feel like he’s swallowing water from a swimming pool. Zayn wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and catches the tail end of Liam’s orgasm face, his eyes still squeezed shut and his mouth soft and open, lips as pink as the head of his cock, now softening in Zayn’s loose grip.

As he gets on his feet, he registers the ache in his knees, his jaw, the back of his neck, but it’s the good kind of soreness that goes hand in hand with the feeling of accomplishment at getting Liam off with his mouth.

Liam looks languid and starry-eyed, watching Zayn crawl up on the bed next to where Liam’s flopped onto his back. He’s not sure if Liam will want to kiss him with the taste of his own come still in Zayn’s mouth, but Liam draws him in and fits their lips together, a little dopey from his orgasm but sweet enough to make Zayn tremble.

Zayn’s still wearing his jumper, sweating through it at the back and the armpits, and Liam pushes it up to palm Zayn’s stomach. He feels small next to Liam, under the wide spread of his fingers across the soft skin of his belly, the trail of hair leading down into his pants. Liam follows it, tugging Zayn’s underwear down to mid-thigh, and he takes a look.

“Oh,” he says, a quiet puff of air against Zayn’s cheek. “You’re, um, you’re circumcised.”

Zayn tucks his tongue against his teeth as he smiles. “Yeah. It’s a Muslim thing too, like. Not just for Jewish boys.”

Liam nods, hesitating before he takes Zayn in his hand. His warm, slightly sweaty palm feels amazing, just holding Zayn’s dick. “Alright?”

Zayn nods, all the air leaving his lungs as Liam gives him a first, tentative pump, his grip too loose like he’s afraid of hurting him. Zayn reaches down and gently curls his fingers around Liam’s, tightening his grip and guiding him up over the wet head of Zayn’s cock to bring the moisture down along his length. Liam’s a fast learner, and Zayn lets go once he’s caught on, letting Liam set the pace as Zayn wraps his hand around Liam’s biceps instead, feeling the flex of the muscles under his skin as he works Zayn over. He’s wound up from getting Liam off, so it’s not long before he’s at the edge, his head tucking into the curve of Liam’s neck as he moans quietly, mindful of his flatmates. He’s so close, shivering all over with his nerve endings all lit up like fairy lights, and then he’s there, spilling over Liam’s fist as Liam presses kisses to his temple, his hair.

“Fuck, babe,” he manages, mouth dry and limbs gone boneless.

Liam lets out a soft laugh, and Zayn seeks out his lips for a proper kiss, tipping his head back and then letting Liam roll on top of him, hissing when his oversensitive cock brushes Liam’s hip.

“Sorry,” Liam murmurs against his mouth, before Zayn shuts him up with a long, unhurried kiss.

Zayn lets Liam peel off his jumper and then crowd back into his space, their bare, sweat-damp skin rubbing all over each other.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

It’s a big deal, Liam’s first blowjob from a guy and his first time properly touching a cock, and Zayn wants to make sure he’s really, definitely okay with it all.

Liam shifts up onto one elbow, catching Zayn’s gaze and holding it, looking at him like he can read everything on Zayn’s face. It should make him feel vulnerable, laying it all in the open for him, but it’s only what Liam seems to do all the time, and Zayn can give that back to him right now, in the sweet, hushed moments after sex.

“More than okay. You’re… Can I say that you’re beautiful?” Liam smiles, tracing over the lips inked at the centre of Zayn’s chest.

“Yeah, you’re alright,” Zayn says, mirroring Liam’s smile. “You’re really something special, Liam.”

He flushes at that, dropping back down to hide his face in Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn wraps his arms and legs around him so it’s impossible to tell where Liam’s body ends and Zayn’s begins. He knows he’s in trouble, so far gone on Liam already, but he’s starting to believe that Liam’s following him down the same path, that Liam might actually be someone he can keep.

***

Liam wakes up in the middle of the night in a panic. The sound of a phone ringing cuts through the hush in the room, and he’s not sure if that’s what woke him or if he woke up a split-second before it went off, but he fumbles around on the table for his mobile. It’s Niall.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sorry, I know it’s late.” Niall sounds as wound up as Liam feels, his chest squeezing tight with inexplicable anxiety.

“That’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just, I think I figured out what it is. My power.”

It takes a bit of wiggling to disentangle himself from Zayn and sit up against the headboard, and the movement makes Zayn huff in his sleep, curling towards Liam’s hip as they resettle. He can’t help the soft smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he looks down, even as he’s worried half to death about Niall.

“What is it?”

“I noticed it earlier with me flatmates, it’s like anytime I’m feeling something it sort of… Like it rubs off on other people somehow. I was laughing about something on the telly and suddenly everyone was laughing, smiling. Didn’t think much of it but then I got nervous thinking about tomorrow, thinking about what kind of thing I could expect, and then everyone around me was fidgeting and nervy. It’s the weirdest fucking thing.”

As Niall speaks, Liam thinks back to the feeling he had before he picked up the phone, and even further back, the way Niall had radiated calm at him until it caught – at the time, he’d assumed it was just Niall’s comforting nature, but now it seems like it could have been a preview of what’s happening now.

“I think I know what you mean,” he tells Niall, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “Like right when you called, I started feeling really worked up for no reason. Can you like, do it on purpose, though?”

“I dunno, I’ve been trying not to feel anything too strong. My flatmates are either gone out out or gone to bed, that’s why I waited 'til now to ring you.”

“Alright, well, let’s give it a go,” Liam takes a deep, calming breath, and he can hear Niall following suit on the other end of the call. “Think about something that makes you angry,” he suggests. Anger is a nice, strong emotion, and Liam’s got no reason to feel it otherwise; it should be easy to tell if he feels it come on all of a sudden.

“I don’t have to like, tell you what I’m thinking about, do I?”

It makes him feel a little better to know that even open, carefree Niall can be guarded about some things.

“Of course not. Just gotta see if I can feel it when you do.”

Niall takes a deep breath again, static fluttering across the line when he exhales. “Okay.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, and then Liam starts to feel slightly uncomfortable, but he’s not sure if that’s just the anticipation. A little longer and then there’s a knot building in Liam’s stomach, that hot bristly feeling that makes him want to lash out at something. Once he realises that he’s really, properly angry without provocation, he’s filled with a sense of awe.

“Niall! It worked!” he says in an excited stage whisper. Zayn sleeps on; he doesn’t even stir. “Try it again, only don’t tell me what it is this time.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Liam tries to empty his mind, not focusing on any one feeling of his own. Zayn’s breath is warm against his hip, almost ticklish, and he runs his fingers through Zayn’s hair. It’s thick and wavy, softer than it looks, and suddenly he feels elated, laughing into the receiver and hearing Niall laugh back.

“How was that?” Niall asks, and he sounds like he’s smiling.

“That was nice,” he says. “See? You’ve got it under control already.”

“Eh, maybe.” Liam can hear the hesitation in Niall’s voice, can feel the happiness waver as Niall continues, “It’s just like, the weirdest one. Messing about with people’s feelings.”

“Yeah. It’s definitely the most impressive superpower though.”

Niall laughs a little at that. Then, like he’s just thought of it, he asks, “Has Zayn slept through this whole call?”

Liam looks down, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah. He sleeps like the dead, honestly. Dunno how he does it.”

“I can hear the fondness in your voice though, Payno. You’re all loved up already, aren’t you. It’s fecking adorable.”

“Oh, shut it,” he says, with no heat behind it.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep. Reckon we’ll get everything sorted out tomorrow at the Heath, with the others.”

“Alright. Sleep well, yeah?”

“Will do. Hey, and… thanks. That really helped a lot.”

There’s a part of Liam that’s been wondering why Niall called him and not Harry, who was so good at talking Zayn down when his hands were on fire, or Louis, who seems like the most likely leader of their little group. Niall’s words soothe that part of him, and he thinks he might be feeling some of the calm that’s come over Niall now that he’s less stressed out about his power.

“I’m glad I could help. Night.”

“Night. See you in a bit.”

Once he sets down his mobile, he notices how warm his ear had got during the call, mashed up against the screen of his iPhone. The room isn’t chilly, but his ear and his cheek feel cold where sweat is rapidly cooling, and he rubs at it before he wiggles his way back under the duvet. Zayn is warm and sleep-heavy, and when Liam throws an arm around him, he burrows closer. Liam falls asleep in the space between two breaths, wrapped around Zayn and sharing his body heat.

Morning seems to come too soon, and Liam feels groggy from his interrupted sleep, completely unsurprised by now that Zayn is still out cold. It’s only nine, early for a Sunday morning, but Liam’s an early riser and he knows he won’t have much luck getting any more sleep – he’d quite like to go for a run, but he can’t exactly do that with Zayn still asleep. He puts off moving for a little while, though, still in that comfortable, hazy space between being awake and actually getting up.

It takes about half an hour for Zayn to make a soft, disgruntled noise and crack an eye open. Liam rubs his thumb between his eyebrows, smoothing out the little wrinkle that’s formed there.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says.

Zayn pushes his face into Liam’s palm like a puppy asking to be stroked, and Liam has to bite back a grin. Zayn’s so cute; he really is unbearably fond of him.

“You hear from the boys yet?” Zayn asks, rubbing his eyes as he pushes up onto his elbows.

No one’s texted him yet today. “Niall rang me in the middle of the night. He can affect people’s feelings. Like some sort of, what’s it called…”

Zayn sits up and curls into Liam’s side. “An empath?”

“Yeah!” He’s delighted that Zayn knew what he meant straight away.

“That’s a proper superpower, like Jean Grey or something.” Zayn yawns. “I’ll definitely have to do some research before we meet up later.”

Liam doesn’t know if Niall’s told anyone else. Hopefully once everyone’s up, they’ll start talking in their group message and get on the same page.

“I need a shower,” Zayn says. Then, with the same half-shy smile he gave Harry when he first caught the two of them in bed together, he adds, “We could have one together.”

He feels his face heat up straight away, his brain nearly leaking out his ears as he considers the idea of being wet and naked with Zayn, being able to see everything and having Zayn look at him. He nods, only a little shy himself, and he’s rewarded with the full force of Zayn’s happy grin.

***

Showering together is the best idea Zayn’s ever had. It’s nice to be able to get clean without counting the minutes, for one thing, and for another, it gives him a chance to really look at Liam from top to toe. There’s a no-shower-sex rule in the flat, because the walls are thin and the bathroom acoustics are a little too good, so Zayn limits his touches to Liam’s arms and shoulders, and Liam takes his cues from Zayn. It’s all very innocent, but the steamy warmth of the shower and the proximity of Liam’s wet, naked body leaves Zayn wanting, his body relaxed and loose-limbed as they dry off.

After they’re dressed and they’ve had some toast, they both get out their laptops, hair still damp and a towel around Liam’s shoulders, their legs overlapping so that Zayn’s ankle is hooked around Liam’s bare calf. Zayn’s in the middle of running a Google search on “elemental energy manipulation” when he remembers all over again that Liam agreed to date him, and he can feel his mouth pull into a huge grin. Of course, there’s still the possibility that Liam will change his mind once the reality of dating another guy sets in, or if they figure out how to get rid of the bond, but it means a lot to him that Liam’s willing to try, willing to be with Zayn. He thinks about the way Liam touched his face this morning, gentle but like he couldn’t help himself: it’s leaps and bounds from the way they started out, and it makes things feel real in such a sudden, simple way.

“Did you find something?” Liam asks, interrupting Zayn’s thoughts.

Zayn looks down at his screen: the top hit on Google is for some superpowers wiki, which appeals to the comics geek in him but probably won’t be all that helpful for their current real life situation. “Erm, not really,” he says, turning to look at Liam. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You’ll find something.” Liam gives him a trusting smile that warms Zayn up from the inside.

He does some more research and bookmarks a few things that look promising. He hopes Harry’s having better luck, honestly, as he’s a bit distracted by the way Liam’s been air drumming to the music coming from his laptop. After Zayn said he didn’t mind, Liam’s been cycling through his iTunes, playing a mixture of songs Zayn loves and artists Zayn doesn’t know or wouldn’t listen to on his own – it feels like another part of getting to know someone, like something they’d do if they really had just met at uni and become friends. He wonders if they would have found each other if not for the lightning, and if they had, if there’s any chance that Liam would have wanted to date him then. It’s easy to believe in something like fate, under present circumstances, but harder to imagine that Liam would be willing to give up a life of cosy heterosexuality to be with Zayn if he hadn’t been glued to Zayn’s side by some supernatural force.

Liam rubs his thumb under Zayn’s ear, this soft little touch that he can’t help but lean into. “Need a break?”

Zayn turns his head to look at him. “Hm?”

The smile on Liam’s face is soft too, something sweet just for Zayn. “You look like you could do with a break, like you’ve been thinking really hard.”

That surprises a laugh out of him. “Are you flirting with me, Liam?”

Liam’s eyes crinkle and Zayn feels like he’s getting yet another tantalising glimpse of what Liam is like when he’s comfortable, underneath the nerves and wariness that still cling to him. “Maybe I am.”

Zayn closes his laptop and sets it aside, watches as Liam does the same.

“You wanna kiss me?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I wanna kiss you.”

They spend a good half an hour doing just that, Liam’s body fitting perfectly over Zayn’s on the bed as they layer one languid kiss on top of another, Zayn’s palms shushing across the worn cotton of Liam’s shirt stretched tight over his back. He’s turned on, but it doesn’t feel urgent – none of it does, and that makes Zayn pause with his wrecked mouth pressed against the pulse in Liam’s neck. It’s hard to remember the last time he kissed anyone else like this, just for the sake of kissing, and even harder to remember a time when he was with someone without that nagging feeling that he ought to hold on tighter, to enjoy it while it lasted. For all his lingering doubts, he feels more settled with Liam after a few days than he has in a long while.

“Alright?” Liam asks, stroking a hand firmly down Zayn’s side and giving his hip a squeeze.

“Deffo,” Zayn replies, with a goofy little smile. He smacks another kiss to Liam’s lips, and that starts off another round of snogging, one that leaves them both breathless and sore-lipped. This time, they pull apart because their mobiles go off at the same time, indicating a message from one of the boys.

Liam gets to his phone first. “It’s Louis.”

Zayn rests his head on Liam’s shoulder and tilts his head so he can read the message off Liam’s iPhone: Louis is asking if they’re still on for half one at Belsize Park station. Adorably, Liam silently mouths the words of his reply as he taps out on the screen: “yeh mateeee, no prob for me and zayn.” He makes sure Zayn sees it, thumb hovering over the send button, and Zayn nods, trying to ignore the way his heart rate picks up at seeing ‘me and Zayn’ written out like that.

“That gives us about forty minutes before we’ve gotta get on the tube,” Liam says.

Liam’s phone chirps again. It’s Niall this time, saying he’s in and he’s got something to show them. Zayn’s definitely interested in seeing Niall’s power in action, and whatever tiny part of him wants to be jealous that it’s cooler than what he can do, he’s glad he doesn’t have the burden of a power that affects other people so strongly, especially given that he’s already got this bond to Liam. His face feels hot as he imagines Liam being able to feel his moods – it’s an embarrassing prospect even now that they’re heading towards something more certain.

After Harry replies with a string of thumbs up emojis, Liam sets his mobile down and fixes Zayn with a serious gaze.

“What?”

Liam bites his lip, the plush pink skin blanching white under the press of his teeth. “Do you want to kiss a bit more?”

Zayn grins, feeling wolfish and fond in equal measure, and twists around onto his front so he can push Liam down against the pillows. Liam goes easily, trusting under Zayn’s hands, and Zayn can’t believe it, can’t fathom how he got so lucky as to have shy, self-contained Liam give himself over to him like this. Whatever forces collaborated to put all of them in the same place at the precise moment of the lightning strike, whatever reason there is for this bond with Liam, Zayn can’t even feel guilty about the fierce gladness in his heart; he wants Liam so much, and he has him, and nothing that brought that about can be all bad.

He strokes his thumb over Liam’s collarbone, the hollow of his throat, the curl of chest hair peeking over the crew neck of his t-shirt. “I’m really glad you like kissing me,” he says, quiet like a secret.

When he ducks down to press their lips together again, Liam lifts his head just a little to meet him halfway, and it feels so right. The kiss goes clumsy when he tries to smile and keep kissing Liam at the same time, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind. The ground stays still beneath them as their tongues rub and curl, tiny electric touches that send a shiver up Zayn’s spine.

Eventually, they look at the time and reluctantly peel apart, Liam printing out the few bits of relevant information Zayn’s found while Zayn sorts out his hair. They hold hands as they leave the flat like it’s second nature. The tube is busy enough that they don’t get seats, but that just means they can let their fingers overlap on the handrail, Liam’s other arm crooked protectively around Zayn, tightening every time the train lurches to a stop.

They reach Belsize Park in under ten minutes, crowding into the lift up to street level and emerging into the brightness of the afternoon. The sun seems to be making up for lost time, shining fit for a month of Sundays, and Zayn has to squint as he looks around for the other boys.

He spots Harry first, holding a Starbucks cup in one hand and a banana peel in the other. He throws the peel in the bin and lopes over, puts his arm around Zayn’s shoulders as he says, “Hi, weather’s nice, isn’t it?”

Niall shows up next, eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans, and hugs each of them before Harry tucks him against his side. Liam squeezes his hand against Zayn’s neck, and he turns to look at him, smiling at him with his eyes.

“Oi, no one told me this was a double date,” Louis calls out to them as he emerges from the underground. He gives Liam an affectionate punch in the meat of his shoulder. “Someone’d better put an arm around me so I don’t feel left out.”

Niall dutifully puts an arm around Louis’ waist, looking between him and Harry. “Makes it a bit hard to walk like this though, don’t it?”

“Figure it out, Niall,” Louis says, with a haughty tip of his chin.

Much to Zayn’s amusement, they actually do take off like that, three across on the pavement, bundling closer whenever someone needs to pass in the other direction. Zayn and Liam follow right behind, clasped hands swinging between them.

***

Harry steers them past the Overground to the entrance at the south end of the Heath. The nice weather means the Heath is crawling with people, clumps of girls in bikinis sunning themselves on thick blankets, couples sharing sandwiches and opening bottles of beer even though it’s before two in the afternoon, families with buggies and children on scooters. Liam’s face lights up at the sight of some dogs playing off lead, getting their paws all muddy in one of the massive residual puddles along the path. He points them out to Zayn so he can see his quick-blooming smile, tongue against the back of his teeth and eyes crinkled up.

The lads have split formation in front of them, Harry taking the lead across the footbridge and down shaded paths, Louis keeping up a steady stream of commentary as Niall follows along, occasionally looking back at Liam and Zayn with a sunny smile.

“We headed for Parliament Hill?” Zayn asks, looking around like he knows the trail they’re on. Liam’s not that familiar with the Heath, but he knows where the athletic fields are, down the bottom of the Hill.

“It’s more like… behind it, I suppose?” Harry shrugs. “I know where we’re going, honest.”

“Famous last words,” Louis says, loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Ah, you’re alright, Harry,” Niall chimes in. “Got Google Maps on our side if you get us lost anyway.”

He and Louis exchange a conspiratorial glance, and by now Liam knows they’re only teasing, that Harry won’t take it personally anyway. It’s a nice feeling, being in the know, being part of the inside of a group. It’s even better because Zayn’s hand is warm and dry in his own, keeping stride.

Eventually they reach a clearing and Harry slows down, leading them through a footworn, unofficial path through the grass. He turns around, walking backwards as he gestures to the copse at the crest of the hill. As they draw closer, Liam sees that the trees are fenced in, circled around a mound of earth.

Harry speaks up. “So this is what we’re here for. It’s called Boudica’s Mound –”

Liam can predict Louis’ snicker before he hears it, and he can’t help joining in, all four of them laughing while Harry shakes his head, pretending to be the mature one. In the meantime, they’ve got right up to the edge of the tree line, gathered around a bench.

“Alright, well, it’s apparently up for debate whether it actually dates back to the Bronze Age and everything, but that’s not really important 'cause it’s still in the right position for the lines of power that run through London, according to folklore.”

“Ley lines, yeah. Saw some of that when I was reading up. They’re supposed to draw lines between monuments of mystical significance or whatever. Druids and shit,” Louis says, putting his knees on the bench and leaning against the back of it to get a closer look at the mound. “Bit New Agey though, in’t it?”

Zayn looks thoughtful. “It makes sense though. If we’re talking about elemental… Powers. Magic. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Makes about as much sense as anything else,” Niall agrees. He looks around, and Liam follows his gaze. They’ve lucked out; there’s no one else within sight. Niall catches his eye and he smiles back at him in what he hopes is an encouraging manner.

“I think Niall’s got something to show us,” Zayn says. Liam doesn’t need any powers to see that Niall’s grateful for the way Zayn gently steers everyone’s focus.

“Okay,” Niall says. “I need all of yous to take a minute and uh, chill out, just don’t think about anything in particular, yeah?”

They all nod and Zayn flashes him a goofy little smile. “Okay Nialler, just chillin’.”

Niall laughs and they all laugh too, a chorus of echoes. He takes a deep breath and just like that, everyone goes quiet and calm. Liam looks around at their faces, watches them start to frown before he registers the downturn of his own lips, the creeping anxiety setting up shop inside him. He looks to Niall. Niall closes his eyes and Harry starts laughing again, breathy and elated.

“Whoa,” he says. “Is that you, Niall? Are you…”

Instead of answering, Niall seems to shift his focus to Zayn, making him smile and throw back his shoulders next to Liam, standing up tall and confident as he squeezes Liam’s hand. It’s Louis next, his expression shifting first to bemusement and then helpless, radiant joy. Niall opens his eyes and looks straight at Liam when he focuses on him, putting that bright bubble of happiness and _belonging_ right in the middle of his chest.

“What is that?” Louis asks, looking around at all of them and then settling his sharp-eyed gaze on Niall. “How’d you do that?”

“It’s empathic projection,” Zayn offers. “Like he can project emotions onto other people. Have you tried doing it the other way around?”

“What d’you mean?” Niall looks confused.

“Like reading what other people are feeling,” Harry says. “That’s like the classic version of empathy, being able to sense people’s true emotions.”

“Isn’t that like, kind of fucked up?” Louis demands. There’s an unhappy twist to his mouth. “It’s like eavesdropping or summat.”

Harry shrugs. “You can try it on me.” He catches Niall’s gaze and holds it. “Go on, Niall.”

Liam focuses on not thinking too hard about anything, being a blank slate so there’s less background noise for Niall to pick through.

Niall’s brow furrows as he looks at Harry, concentrating hard. “You’re in a good mood, but you’re… nervous. Worried?”

Harry shrugs. “Sounds about right. Something’s up, isn’t it? The storms were just the start of it, I think something else is coming.”

“You can do me too,” Zayn says. “Just one could be luck, like, so you have to try it a few times.”

Niall looks into Zayn’s eyes. After a long pause, he says, “You’re calm and really chilled out. You’ve got this sort of warm glow, is how I’d describe it.” His gaze flickers over to Liam now, amused. “The two of you are glowing like, the same way.”

“I knew you were a pair of saps, honestly,” Louis says, his loud voice breaking through the hushed mood. “I suppose you’ll want to do me too now, Niall.”

“It’s only fair, yeah, Lou?” Niall grins, looking less worried now that they’re working through his powers with him. “Can’t leave you out of it.”

Louis shrugs, his smile crooked but soft, his hair sticking up in the back where he must have rubbed it while Liam wasn’t looking.

“You’re freaked out a bit. But you’re trying – you’re being brave.” Niall reaches out to squeeze Louis’ shoulder.

Louis pats Niall’s hand, smiling wider now. “Pushing your happy feelings onto me isn’t fair play, you know. I see through your little empathic whatever tricks.”

Niall shrugs, makes a little ‘oops’ face but doesn’t seem very sorry at all.

***

They walk back the way they came and sit down for tea and pastries at Euphorium, where they divvy up research duties: Harry will keep reading up on ley lines, Niall and Louis will look into unusual natural phenomena, and Zayn and Liam will investigate elemental powers. No one mentions trying to find a cure for their touch dependence, so Zayn doesn’t bring it up either. There’s a quiet but persistent worry at the back of his mind, reminding him that they need to sort that out along with everything else. As he crams the last of his buttered scone into his mouth, he catches Niall frowning at him, then looking flustered when he realises he’s been caught out.

“Sorry,” Niall mouths. He holds up a tentative thumbs up, asking if Zayn’s okay, and Zayn gives him a small nod in response. Niall’s powers seem to be getting stronger, or maybe he’s just got more control over them now. Zayn still isn’t too disconcerted by it, but it shakes him out of brooding quite quickly, knowing that someone else picks up on it.

They go over their schedules as a group and make a plan to reconvene on Tuesday after Niall and Harry’s afternoon lecture. Zayn’s next lecture isn’t until Wednesday, but Liam has one on Monday morning.

“I’ll have to miss it, I suppose.” Liam looks worried, like maybe he’s never skived off a class before.

“You’ve got a good excuse,” Harry points out. “Your lecturer would definitely notice if you brought in someone who’s not in the section. It’d bring up a lot of questions.”

“Yeah, and hopefully by Tuesday we’ll have an idea of what this is all for. Just watch, it’ll be summat to do with global warming. Like oooh, I knew I should’ve been better about the recycling.”

They laugh, but Harry considers Louis’ joke thoughtfully. “Might not be that far off, though, if you think about it. That big storm could’ve been the result of some kind of imbalance in nature. Maybe our… abilities are meant to correct it somehow.”

“D’you think there’s gonna be some big boss showdown, like the five of us versus some toxic waste creature?” Liam’s doing a poor job of pretending not to be excited at the prospect of them heading off Godzilla in the middle of the Thames, and Zayn masks his indulgent smile with a feigned cough.

“We’ve all got a lot of Googling to do,” Niall says, calling an unofficial end to the discussion.

They say goodbye to Harry at the tube station, the rest of them taking the lift down together. The Charing Cross line train is sitting on the tracks when they get there, so there’s a mad dash for it. Zayn’s heart is beating fast as they collapse into their seats, and he can feel Liam’s pulse keeping the same time between their clasped palms.

He’s barely had time to catch his breath before they’ve reached Mornington Crescent, saying a hasty goodbye to Niall and Louis before they alight.

Back at Zayn’s flat, Liam looks about as simultaneously keyed up and exhausted as Zayn feels, and he hustles Liam ahead of him into his bedroom with one hand at the small of his back.

“Been a long day, and it’s only half four,” he says, unlacing his boots.

Liam nods, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. It’s incredibly distracting: the strip of tanned stomach that shows underneath, the small movements of his mouth as he silently works something over, like he’s going over what he’s about to say.

Zayn quietly gives Liam his full attention, kicking his boots aside and padding over on socked feet.

Liam reaches out immediately, placing his hands on Zayn’s bare upper arms and rubbing the skin with his palms, raising gooseflesh and making Zayn rock up on the balls of his feet to get instinctively closer.

“I can’t believe…” Liam starts to say. Zayn watches him parse through the sentence and start again. “I want you so much. I want… to make you feel good, like you did me last night.” He doesn’t blush, his eyes big and serious as he pins Zayn with his gaze.

“You don’t have to – Liam, that’s kind of a big step,” Zayn protests, even as his body thrums like a tuning fork set to Liam’s specific frequency.

Liam walks them over to the bed and strips Zayn out of his top, reaching behind himself to tug his own overhead. Watching the way his muscles bunch up and then go loose again makes Zayn’s mouth go dry, and he toes off his socks on autopilot, watching Liam take off his jeans and his pants with a confidence he didn’t have a few days ago. There’s a spark of pride as Zayn thinks, _I did that. I helped him find that_.

Zayn scoots to the centre of the bed and lies down, following Liam with his gaze as he knee-walks along the mattress and helps Zayn out of the rest of his clothes, coaxing his hips up and adding to the pile on the floor. He has to remind himself that this is Liam’s first time trying this with another bloke; he feels incredibly lucky that Liam wants to put his mouth on him, but he’s nervous for him too. He remembers the first fumbling blowjob he gave, on his knees in the dressing rooms after drama rehearsal after everyone else had gone. It’s not something he’s ever regretted, but he knows he can make Liam’s first go at it better than that.

He cradles Liam’s cheeks with both hands, tracing the dry curve of his bottom lip with his thumb. Liam’s mouth parts easily for him, giving him a glimpse of the wet warmth inside, and Zayn lets out a shaky breath. He has to kiss him, has to suck on that lower lip so it plumps up even more, touching their tongues together as he traces down the side of Liam’s neck, along his clavicle and over his chest, blunt fingernails grazing a nipple and making Liam arch closer, the evidence of his arousal pushed up against Zayn’s thigh.

Liam’s eager for it, as if now that he’s made up his mind, he can’t wait. He bends his head and nips at Zayn’s fingertips, suckling shallowly at two of them and before he kisses his wrist, his inner elbow, the mound of his shoulder. Liam fits his mouth against the red lips tattooed over Zayn’s sternum and keeps layering kisses steadily downward, tracing the shape of Zayn’s ribcage and the planes of his stomach, pausing over the text that scrolls along his left hip.

“You like them?” Zayn asks, rubbing his hand through Liam’s hair, over the naked curve of his ear.

Liam nods. “I’ve always wanted some,” he confesses, laying a straight row of kisses over the letters. “Someday.” His breath is warm and humid, so close to Zayn’s dick that he can’t think straight anymore, nodding mindlessly as Liam closes a loose fist around him.

***

He’s had Zayn in his hand before, just last night, but it’s definitely something else to be on his elbows between Zayn’s thighs, face to face with someone else’s cock for the first time. He thinks he should probably be more nervous about it, actually, but the combination of adrenaline and the throb of desire at the pit of his stomach has a strangely steadying effect. Liam breathes out against Zayn’s dick and watches it twitch, feels it against the cradle of his hand. It’s weird and it’s hot, and he really, really wants to be good at this – to be good for Zayn.

He presses the flat of his tongue against the underside, savouring the way it seems to punch the air out of Zayn’s lungs. It makes sense to go for it, then, to close his mouth over the naked, dusky pink head and try to get used to the way his lips stretch around it.

“Fuck,” Zayn swears from above him, palming the side of Liam’s head.

It tastes and feels nothing like Liam expects, like skin but softer and more vulnerable, rubbing against his tongue and the insides of his cheeks as he pushes himself to take a little more. When he pulls off, his lips already feel bruised and sore, like after they’ve been kissing for hours. Zayn stares down the length of his own body and meets Liam’s eyes, and he looks utterly fucked out, untethered, like Liam is the only thing grounding him. It makes Liam feel so good, so powerful, and he hunches over Zayn’s dick again. When he sucks at it properly this time, it wrings these small, helpless noises out of Zayn, his stomach flexing under Liam’s other hand. He closes his eyes and loses himself in it for a while, letting the smell and taste and feel of Zayn surround him.

A gentle tap to his jaw gets his attention, and he raises up onto one elbow, letting Zayn’s cock slip free of his mouth.

“Wait, Liam.” Zayn’s Adam's apple bobs up and down. “You’re so good, come here, I wanna…”

Liam goes where Zayn wants, lying face to face on their sides, even though he’s not sure what he’s after.

“Stay there, okay?” Zayn says, and then he’s turning himself around on the bed so they’re top to toe.

Once Zayn settles properly, things click into place in Liam’s head, and he breathes out a surprised, “Oh!”

He feels Zayn’s smile against the front of his thigh, his mouth reshaping to drop a kiss there. “Yeah.”

Liam puts a hand on Zayn’s hip and tugs him closer, trying to work out the angles now that everything’s upside down. Zayn gives him time to reorient himself, waiting patiently even though the head of his cock is shiny-wet with precome. Liam can’t resist licking at it, curious about the taste: Zayn tastes salty and more concentrated than a girl, and the touch of Liam’s tongue drags a low groan out of him. He uses his hand to guide Zayn’s dick into his mouth again, building up a steady rhythm again.

Even though he’s braced for it, the first touch of Zayn’s lips against the tip of his own cock feels like a shock, and he falters in his movements as Zayn takes him into the clinging heat of his mouth. He can’t get out a proper moan with his mouth full, so he just presses his tongue firmly against the crown of Zayn’s cock, which encourages Zayn to start moving his head, making Liam’s dick bump right up against the soft back of his throat. It’s overwhelming, like being caught in a feedback loop of sensation, and he has to rein himself back so he doesn’t buck his hips forward or lose that crucial thread of conscious control over his power. He can feel the slow, constant rub of Zayn’s facial hair against the sensitive skin between his thighs, just rough enough to lend an edge to the pleasure.

He loses track of time, but eventually he pulls back enough to get a full breath, panting wetly against the head of Zayn’s cock with his brow pressed against Zayn’s hip.

Zayn pulls off as well, but he slicks his hand up and down Liam’s shaft, keeping him on edge as he asks, “Okay, babe?” His voice is wrecked and Liam can’t do much more than nod, trusting him to feel it.

When Zayn starts sucking him off again, Liam screws his eyes shut and counts backwards from ten, trying not come yet. He fits his mouth over Zayn and mimics his actions, moving his hand over the rest of Zayn’s length as he sucks at the head. The taste of him gets sharper, stronger as he gets closer, and Liam thrills at this growing, intuitive knowledge of Zayn’s body, the intimacy of it fuelling his desire and loosening something in his chest even as the rest of him is strung taut. He understands completely why Zayn wanted it like this, both of them giving and taking at the same time. It’s the most intimate, mutual act he’s ever experienced, and like everything with Zayn, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, taking care of Zayn while he takes care of Liam.

Zayn brings his free hand around to cup Liam’s balls, and the touch of his warm, slightly damp palm is enough to set Liam off: two shallow, helpless thrusts into Zayn’s mouth and it’s all over. He’s thankful that he somehow managed not to set off an earthquake when he came, and he tries to keep his mouth sealed around Zayn’s dick. He’s surprised when it throbs and spurts come over the roof of his mouth, just seconds after his own release. He swallows reflexively, hips jerking as Zayn dips his tongue into his slit. Everything is pure pleasure, riding on that knife’s edge of too much, until finally they break apart, Zayn’s sweaty forehead pressed to Liam’s hip and Liam’s nose mashed against Zayn’s inner thigh.

“Wow.” He can’t feel his toes, and the rest of him is tingling and boneless.

After a few breaths, the mattress dips and Zayn drags himself around, bumping his head up under Liam’s chin. They’re both sweaty and wrung out, and Zayn’s hand against his hip sets his nerve endings alight, something a little possessive in his grip. Liam is aware, more than ever, how well they fit together: all the ways they’re the same and all the ways they complement each other. He wraps his arms around Zayn’s back, their chests rising and falling together, and he holds on with everything he’s got.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he blinks and the swatch of sunlight coming through Zayn’s window has shifted to the other side of the room. His body still feels loose and sated, his sore lips and the satisfying ache in jaw reminding him of what they did. The insides of his thighs feel chafed and sensitive, and he reaches out to rub at Zayn’s beard, fond and admiring even as he’s imagining how uncomfortable it will be to wear jeans. Zayn doesn’t even stir as Liam pats his cheek, whispering his name, but eventually he scrunches up his nose and huffs against Liam’s throat.

“Hey, love,” Liam says, almost apologetically. “We should get up and do some research, probably.”

Zayn makes a disparaging noise. “Maybe it’s all totally random and we don’t have to do anything about it. You can just stay here forever, ‘s fine.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to the crown of Zayn’s head, but the words roll around inside his head. The thing is, he wants to stay. He wants Zayn, and he realises with a quiet certainty that he’s still going to want Zayn after they’ve got rid of whatever it is that’s bonded them together, as long as Zayn wants him back. Liam isn’t totally naive; he knows that means he’ll have to keep explaining himself: to his family, to his friends, to anyone he meets who asks if he has a girlfriend. But if it’s a choice between that or losing Zayn, well, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try.

“I could do. I could stay as long as you want, Zayn, but to be absolutely fair we both have things we’ve got to do, and some of it’d be loads easier if we could go more than five minutes apart.”

Zayn lifts his head and blinks at him, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks distracting Liam momentarily. “Right, yeah. Better be cracking on with it.”

He rolls off Liam and reaches for his laptop on the end table, shuffling up against the headboard with it balanced on his knees. He looks small, folded up like that, but Liam knows that Zayn isn’t fragile. He touches Zayn’s arm with the tips of his fingers, tracing over the tattoo of a snake on his shoulder, watching Zayn’s face as he taps away at his keyboard and scans through the search results.

“I can feel you staring,” Zayn says, after a moment. He’s smiling, a small sliver of tongue showing between his teeth.

Liam just grins, shrugging with one shoulder. “I suppose I could go have a shower while you’re doing that. I’ll have a go at Google too, when I get back.”

Zayn turns his head in time to receive the kiss Liam places square on his mouth, and Liam gets up quickly after that, pulling on a pair of pants – in the corridor, he realises they belong to Zayn, but he’s in the bathroom and stripping off again in moments anyway. He’s always been efficient about his showers, but he feels quite rushed now, conscious of getting it done with enough time to spare before the pain sets in. He could probably grit his teeth and get through it at the end, but he doesn’t like the thought of Zayn hurting because he took too long about it, so he skips washing his hair and briskly scrubs himself off.

When he gets back to Zayn’s room, he stays near the bed as he dries himself, ready to reach out for Zayn at the first twinge. He glances at the clock, which tells him it’s been seven minutes since he left the room. They haven’t timed it consistently, so he doesn’t know if that’s a new record or if they’ve gone longer than that now.

“I’m just gonna see how long we have, yeah? Like if we’ve built up a better tolerance to it over the past few days,” he explains, when Zayn looks up at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Okay. How long’s it been, then?”

“Seven… Eight minutes.”

They watch the clock together, the flashing colon between the numbers marking the passage of seconds on the digital display.

“Ten minutes,” Zayn says.

Liam can’t read his expression, and he’s not sure how he feels either. Ten minutes has got to be the longest they’ve gone without touching since it all started. The minutes keep passing, and Liam perches on the edge of the bed, towel still wrapped around his hips.

At fifteen minutes, the weight of their silence forces Liam to speak up. “Well, that’s new.”

“Do you think it’s… Could it be gone?”

“I dunno. Could be. I suppose the only way we’ll know is if we keep waiting.” Now that he’s trying not to touch Zayn for a change, he’s critically aware of the space between them on the bed. He feels weirdly conscious of his hands, and he folds them in his lap, looking between the clock and Zayn, whose face is still carefully neutral.

“Yeah. I could have a shower and we’ll see if it kicks in, like. I mean, it’s a good thing if it doesn’t, yeah? One less thing for us to think about.”

Liam nods, but he’s puzzling through the strange sense of loss he feels at the idea of the pain being gone for good. Zayn gets up and heads for the door and when he looks back, his face is open and soft, hopeful, and Liam remembers that it doesn’t matter if the thing between them is gone, because he’ll still have Zayn at the end of it. He smiles, and Zayn smiles back, and then Liam’s got nothing to do but wait.

***

He takes his time in the shower, and it’s weird to be alone now that he’s quite sure the touch dependence has gone away. Even though they’re ostensibly still waiting to see if it kicks in again, he feels like something’s changed. Zayn really wants to believe that Liam will stick around after they’ve figured out everything else with their powers and that, but it’s all been such a whirlwind, he can’t help but worry that Liam hasn’t had time to think things through all the way. He counts backwards in his head: it’s only been six days since the lightning strike that started it all, but it’s been long enough for him to get properly attached. If they’re going to keep at it, keep dating and being boyfriends and all of it, then they’ve got to slow down and get to know each other better.

There’s so much they have to talk about, not least of all the fact that Liam thought he was straight six days ago, and now he’s with Zayn and he’s going to need time to really evaluate what that means for him. It’s a lot to ask of someone, Zayn knows that, and he’s already impressed with how much Liam’s trying, but it just feels like right now could be the perfect opportunity for Liam to change his mind. He has to try to prepare himself for that, just in case.

He comes back to the room, already towelled dry, cautiously optimistic. Liam’s settled comfortably on the bed in a t-shirt and boxers, and he looks up from his laptop screen as Zayn comes in, face brightening up in a way that makes Zayn smile back.

“So I think it’s official, yeah? No more enforced touching.” He puts on a clean pair of pants and climbs on the bed, keeping a few inches of space between them.

Liam sets his laptop aside and nods, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, but now that we know, we can still touch each other, right? Like, because we want to, not because we have to.”

Zayn nods, staying perfectly still with his heart in his throat, wanting Liam’s arms around him more than he ever could have imagined. Liam reaches out and Zayn pitches forward, pressing himself up against his chest. They both breathe out at the same time, and it’s a sigh of relief as their bodies slot into place again. He lets himself melt into Liam and be held, and it doesn’t feel any different to before, it just feels good. Liam’s lips brush against his brow, across the bridge of his nose, and Zayn tips his head up to meet him halfway for a kiss.

Nothing much else changes, at least for the time being. They stay tangled up with each other, Liam’s arm slung casually around Zayn’s shoulders as they sit and look at various websites together: weeding out the truly loony crap, skipping over the anime and other cartoon references, and trying to find anything that might actually be helpful to know about their powers.

“I just keep getting all this stuff about Avatar: The Last Airbender and some show from the ‘90s called Captain Planet,” Zayn complains. “I mean, that’s cool and everything, it’s just not very useful. Don’t think it’s quite the same thing.”

He shoots off a text to the group: “Did ya find anything good?”

Harry replies almost instantaneously. “Nothing yet.”

Zayn shows his phone to Liam as he types. “oh well. liam and me don’t have to touch anymore. went away by itself.” After a moment, he adds: “we are still touching tho :)”

Niall replies after that: “yehhhhh wicked ! Maybe the rest of it’ll go away too?”

Zayn’s typing out a question about Niall’s research when Louis tacks on: “You slags. In the meantime I made a tornado in me room!!”

He deletes what he’d written before and just writes: “sick ! Just don’t blow your house down aha xx”

They spend a good ten minutes just idly chatting – Liam gets out his phone and joins in, and Louis gives the two of them guff for sitting next to each other texting.

“Fuck,” he says aloud, abruptly.

Liam looks up from his mobile, raising his eyebrows.

“We can never tell him but I think Louis might’ve been right. I mean… The touching thing went away after we, you know.” Zayn mimes a blowjob, noting with some satisfaction that it makes Liam’s cheeks go pink.

“Yeah, but we did stuff before that. You uh, went down on me before that,” Liam says.

“Right, but maybe it was something about doing it at the same time, like. Completing the circuit or whatever.” It’s as good an explanation as any – rather more likely than the bond randomly breaking on its own.

“Could be.” Liam rubs his thumb over the nape of Zayn’s neck, a comforting little touch that loosens him up. “You’re right though, we definitely can’t tell Louis.”

His phone pings again, and Zayn looks back at the screen. Harry’s sent them several messages in a row and he’s attached a picture: a map with a series of lines highlighted in primary colours. He zooms in on the map and sees that three of the lines converge at a single point.

“Haz says the lines intersect right where his house is,” Liam supplies helpfully.

They squint at the map together, looking at the street names, and yeah. The lines meet right there in the middle of Belsize Park, where they were staying only a few days ago.

Zayn closes the map and looks at the messages again.

“What does that mean then ???” Niall’s typed.

“Concentrated power, lots of potential for mystical energy…” Harry replies. “Red line runs all the way to Stonehenge. Blue line runs through Boudica’s Mound on the Heath. Yellow line runs through the bus stop”

Louis’ next reply makes Zayn laugh: “Could be bollocks but could be important I suppose.”

Liam nudges their knees together. “What do you reckon, maybe that’s why we were so affected by the lightning, 'cause we were near somewhere with a lot of energy? And then staying at Harry’s made the powers come on strong.”

“I mean, if we’re gonna believe the lines mean something then yeah, that’s definitely possible. I dunno, everything’s unbelievable right now so it makes it quite easy to think there’s some sort of like, supernatural explanation behind it all.”

They exchange some more back and forth with the others and then decide to pick up again tomorrow if anyone finds anything interesting.

After they stop texting, Liam and Zayn watch the 21 Jump Street movie on Zayn’s laptop, and Zayn means to make it through the movie and a late dinner before he goes to sleep, but he’s out like a light before they even get to the big chase scene.

In the morning, Liam wakes him with open mouthed kisses along his collarbone, and Zayn can feel where his stubble’s been growing in, coarse when it rubs against the grain.

“Hullo,” Liam says, pressing his sleepy smile against Zayn’s mouth.

“Alright?” He mumbles, still waking up.

“We should have breakfast, but then I’ve got that lecture at 11:30, and I thought… Well, I can go to it now that our condition has sorted itself out.”

Zayn nods. It’s important to Liam that he goes to his classes, and now that there’s nothing to keep him from doing it, it makes sense. “Such a good boy,” he says, carding his fingers through the stripe of hair down the back of Liam’s head, the little curls at the base of his neck.

“Might go ‘round my flat as well, get some more clothes and things. Shut my flatmates up a bit.” Liam’s face is open, earnest, like he’s offering Zayn an explanation for why he needs to spend the day apart from him.

“Yeah, you should do. I’ve got reading to do and errands to run. Might give Harry a call about our little research project.” He squints a smile at Liam and taps the end of his nose with his fingertip.

“Okay,” Liam says, resting his chin on Zayn’s chest and not looking remotely ready to move yet.

***

Liam fries some eggs while Zayn toasts muffins and spreads them with Lurpak, and they eat in the kitchen, hovering in each other’s space without quite touching. After breakfast, Liam packs his rucksack, leaving his holdall on Zayn’s bedroom floor, and pauses to exchange minty kisses with Zayn before he hustles out of the flat and onto the tube.

He gets off the tube at Charing Cross and legs it to the lecture theatre. He’s actually a couple of minutes early, so he has his pick of seats: the desks always seem to be arranged into a rectangle, and he just goes for one with a good view of the whiteboard in case the lecturer decides to use it. If he’s being honest, he was only so insistent on coming in today because it’s the theoretical module, and theory’s the hardest part of the course for him. Even when he shows up and takes meticulous notes, he’s not sure he’s getting it all, so he doesn’t dare miss a lecture if he can help it, especially not this close to the end of term.

The two hours pass quickly, Liam’s fingertips flying across his laptop keyboard as he struggles to keep up with his notes. Squiggly red lines point out all his typos and misspellings, but he ignores them for the time being, hoping he’s getting the important points down. The girl to his left is taking sparse, shorthand notes with a gel ink pen in her notebook, and Liam tries not to feel envious of her comparatively effortless engagement with the material. It’s only his first year, he reasons. Hopefully it’ll all get easier. When the lecturer looks up at the clock and dismisses them, he packs up quickly and heads out before the rest of the pack, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the lift.

It’s quite strange to be moving around on his own after being attached at the hip to Zayn and then part of the larger pack of his newfound friends. He was so used to it before, comfortable in his aloneness when he wasn’t hanging out with his flatmates or the small group of friends from his Digital Methods class that usually eat lunch together. Now it feels like he’s got to adjust to walking without Zayn’s hand in his or his arm around Zayn’s waist. It’s maybe a bit silly, missing him so much after just a few hours, but it’s like his body remembers needing to keep Zayn close even once the actual physical necessity for it has gone.

He’s not sure what Zayn’s like in a relationship: whether he texts a lot or ignores his phone, whether he finds reiterations of ‘I miss you’ charming or clingy. He’ll err on the safe side for now and leave the texting 'til later in the day, when he’s ready to get back to Zayn’s flat. He thinks that’s the plan, anyway, that he’ll pick up some things at his, chat with Andy and Maz a bit, and then spend the night with Zayn; but he’ll have to check to make sure.

No one’s in the flat when he gets back, which isn’t unusual for a Monday afternoon around lunchtime. He eats his Sainsbury’s coronation chicken sandwich over the sink and then putters about doing his usual home-alone things: putting away the dishes in the drying rack, doing a set of pushups and situps in his room. He remembers that he can go for a run now, to make up for the running he’s missed while he was up at Harry’s and having lazy mornings with Zayn. He changes into his jogging kit and trainers, bouncing out the door with his earbuds already plugged in.

He starts at an easy jogging pace, weaving around other pedestrians, kids on scooters, the occasional dog walker. Once he reaches the outer circle of the park, he picks up speed, taking his favourite route, circling through grassy fields, past the zoo and towards the boating lake. It feels good to run again, muscle memory taking over. His shorts chafe at his thighs, and if he weren’t already flushed with exertion, he’d blush at the memory of Zayn’s face between his legs, the two of them locked into a position he can’t help but think of as sixty-nine. Liam doesn’t push himself too hard, but he’s still breathing heavy and sweating through his vest by the time he’s made it back around to the same entrance he came in, doing some stretches before he leaves the park.

The flat’s still empty, so Liam chugs water and then takes a luxuriously long shower and has a quick wank out of force of habit. Just before he comes, he thinks about Zayn’s mouth on him, lips swollen and wet, the flutter of his eyelashes over his hollowed cheeks.

Maz and Andy get in just before tea time with Tom in tow, and they all make a loud show of not having seen Liam in ages.

“So who’s the lucky bird?” Maz asks.

“Got pics, mate? Is she a fittie or just alright?” Tom chimes in.

Part of him was expecting it, but being asked point blank about the girl he’s supposed to have been shagging makes him wince. He could really do with more time to work up to the conversation it would take to explain that while the person he’s dating is very fit, he’s definitely not a she.

“No, no pictures,” he says, and at least he’s being honest about that. “Still early days, so I dunno. I’ll keep you lads updated.” It’s a cop out and he feels cowardly for dodging the issue, but he’s only lied by omission. He will tell them, but it’ll actually be loads easier coming clean – coming _out_ to his family about it, so he’d rather do that first.

They take the piss out of him for spending so much time with ‘her’ right out of the gate, and he laughs and plays along. Eventually they coax him into making fajitas for all of them, and it’s easy enough to do it, basking in their flattery of his cooking skills.

“I’m definitely not doing the washing up,” he says, once they’ve eaten.

He ducks into his bedroom and gets a few more clean pants and socks, a couple of t-shirts that are crumpled but smell fine. When he checks his phone, there’s an unread message in the group chat from Niall.

“Miss you lads ! Slow going on reading about weather n things but hope your day’s going good.”

Liam smiles to himself and then texts back a couple of thumbs up emojis before opening up a new message to just Zayn.

“Hi it’s me Liam. Justttt checking if I should come over in a bit. Had dinner w flatmates already so im just hanging outttttt”

It takes a couple of minutes for Zayn to respond: “Yeah course, come over anytime :) x”

It’s short and to the point, but the smiley face and the kiss make Liam grin down at his mobile. It’s official, he really does fancy Zayn rotten.

“Ok ill be there in like 10 min, missed u lol x,” he types, sending the message before he has time to second guess it.

There’s no response, but Liam tells himself that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Zayn’s already told him to come over. He probably just put down his phone, and Liam will see him as soon as he can get out of the flat – hopefully with minimal commentary from the peanut gallery – and walk over. It’s silly to get worked up about it, so he won’t. Not 'til he’s seen Zayn face to face, at least, because he knows it’ll be obvious then, whether he wants Liam there or not.

He takes a deep breath and chucks an extra snapback in his bag for good measure before hoisting both straps over one shoulder and heading out through the lounge.

“When are you gonna let us meet the missus then?” Andy teases, giving Liam a fist bump as he scoots around the sofa on the way to the door.

Liam makes a noncommittal noise and calls back, “Later, lads!” He slips out of the flat and down the stairs.

***

Since Liam left in the morning, Zayn’s managed to keep himself busy all day, catching up on the things that fell by the wayside over the past several days. He tidies his room and changes the sheets on his bed, and he even takes out the bin bags when he goes downstairs for a smoke. At first it’s really nice, having some space to lounge around and drink tea and have a think and just be alone. No matter how much he likes anyone, he’s always liked to take time to recharge on his own – his dad always tells stories about Zayn quietly sneaking away from family gatherings to sit and play with his toys in his bedroom.

After a quick trip to the corner shop to pick up cigarettes and loo roll, he rings his mum around half two. The phone ends up getting passed around to Doniya, Waliyha, and Safaa, and to his aunties who are over making samosas and bhajis for the birthday party of one of his cousins that night. He can practically feel the warmth of the kitchen, can easily imagine the smell of the masala spices and sweating onions, the way his mum would swat his hand away when he tried to sample the curried potatoes and veg before she put it in the pastries.

His mum asks if everything’s okay. She wants to know if he’s still spending time with ‘that Liam’ or not, and Zayn rubs at the back of his neck, bashful even though no one in the kitchen can see him.

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out. Actually we’re like, proper dating now,” he admits.

“Oh, that’s lovely, darling,” his mum exclaims, and he’s expecting the chorus of ‘ooh’s in the background. It’s alright; they might take the mickey but he knows how fiercely the women in his life love him, how happy they are when he’s happy.

“He hasn’t done a runner yet, anyway,” Zayn tells her, lightly. He pictures Liam out there in the world, sitting in his lecture and then having his lunch and probably smiling at dogs and old ladies on the street on his way home. He likes Liam rather a lot.

After a bit more chat, his mum says apologetically, “Alright, duck, you’ll have to tell me all about it soon but the bhajis won’t make themselves, I’m afraid. You text me later in the week when you’re free and I’ll give you a ring back.”

“Okay, mum. I love you.”

“I love you. Everyone sends their love as well.”

He’s still smiling after the line’s gone cold, feeling warm and settled and only a little bit homesick. He misses Liam as well – his bed is so much bigger than it used to be, without Liam stretched out beside him, solid and sweet. He rolls onto his belly and starts his reading for Wednesday’s lectures, and he’s thinking of a future where he and Liam lie shoulder to shoulder and do their separate coursework, taking breaks to show each other funny videos or a Facebook event invitation but mostly just existing in the same space, being with each other as easy as breathing.

It’s just gone six when Zayn reluctantly makes his way into the kitchen to do the washing up – his least favourite chore, and therefore the one he’s put off all afternoon. The sun’s still high in the sky, making it feel earlier than it is, stretching out the day in a way he knows he’ll miss once summer is over. He puts on some music in an attempt to distract himself from the task at hand, and then he plugs the drain and douses everything in washing up liquid. As he waits for the sink to fill up with warm, soapy water, he starts dancing a little to the old school Usher track that’s playing: he does an easy shuffle-step-slide routine to the beat, swiveling his hips and singing along at half volume. The water is too hot for the first few moments after he plunges his hands into the basin, but considering that his palms have been on fire more than once in the past week, it’s nothing he can’t handle. He scrubs away at the dishes, some of them definitely Ant and Danny’s but he knows they’ll do the same for him another time: they’d all scoffed at the idea of having a rota for cleaning, but most of the time each of them pulls his weight and it works out about even.

He’s still singing and dancing over the dishes when the text from Liam comes through. Zayn’s not known amongst his friends as someone who answers his mobile or responds to messages with any kind of regularity, but he’s been better lately with the group messages from the lads, and if he’s honest, he’s been waiting for Liam to text – he doesn’t seem the type to turn up at someone’s door unannounced.

Zayn wipes his right hand on a tea towel so he can text back, encouraging Liam to come over whenever he wants; having had most of the day to himself, he’s suddenly so ready to see Liam again. He’s relieved not to have skipped over that ecstatic, early days headrush despite how comfortably they’ve settled into being together. If anything, the ease with which they fit only makes him want more. It still makes him a bit nervous, letting himself get attached to someone so quickly, but Liam’s little admission – “missed u” – makes him feel lighter.

Setting down his mobile, he makes quick work of the rest of the washing up, doing a slow groove to Drake as he finishes placing clean dishes and mugs in the drying rack and rinses out the sink. Not long after he’s done, the buzzer goes, and if he rushes a bit to get to the intercom, then there’s no one there to see it.

He puts the door on the latch and goes back into the kitchen to put on the kettle, his mum’s voice in the back of his head telling him to offer his guest a cuppa when they arrive.

“Milk and three sugars, yeah?” he greets Liam, who taps politely on the door before pushing it open and setting the latch to rights so he can close it.

“Yeah, that’s right. Didn’t know you remembered.” Liam comes through the lounge all the way to the kitchen and hovers nearby as Zayn finishes preparing their tea.

He pushes Liam’s mug along the worktop so he has to move closer to get it, and then Zayn closes the remaining space between them, standing toe to toe with his phone still playing music in the background, that Clean Bandit song that’s been everywhere this summer.

“I missed you too,” Zayn says quickly. “I should have said but I was cleaning, if you can believe it.”

Liam’s laugh is a sweet little thing that Zayn wants to cup in his hands, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He puts his big hands on Zayn’s waist and hums along to the music, going way up in his head voice as he sings quietly, “When I am with you, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

It’s silly and it’s unbearably cute, and Zayn kisses him before he can start in on the ‘na na na’ part of the chorus. Liam tastes like he’s been chewing gum, something minty and sweet. They kiss slowly at first, relearning each other’s mouths, and then Liam moves a hand to cup the back of Zayn’s head, backing him up against the fridge and kissing him with abandon. Zayn puts his hands on Liam’s shoulders and tugs at him; he can’t seem to get him close enough.

He doesn’t notice the trembling at first, but then the whole flat gives a great big shudder like it’s been picked up and shaken, and it snaps them out of the moment. Liam takes a step back and Zayn lets him go, both of them looking around at the effects of the quake.

“Fuck,” Liam says in a loud whisper. “I think I forgot to focus on it. Got a bit carried away.” His gaze drops quickly to Zayn’s mouth and then back up to meet his gaze.

The problem is that the shaking doesn’t stop immediately: the tremors keep coming in waves, and the confusion and fear on Liam’s face mirrors his own reaction. Even in Belsize Park, where the houses are further apart, the neighbours had to have felt some aftershocks, and everything’s much more crowded together here in Camden. London isn’t equipped for earthquakes, and he’s worried about the whole block as the building continues to shake, worried about all the people who could be hurt. 

“Zayn, your hands,” Liam says.

He’s skipped straight to full flames this time, resting in the palm of each hand like tiny fireballs. It would be cool if it weren’t so disconcerting, if he weren’t terrified by the fact that their powers have activated in the middle of his flat on a Monday evening. He knows he has to focus, has to think about turning down the flames just like Liam needs to think about stilling the earth, but his brain is firing on all cylinders and he can’t seem to make it stop.

“Hey, are you with me? Babe?”

Liam’s voice pulls him back, and he reaches for his hand on blind instinct, forgetting that his own is still on fire. Only the flame doesn’t seem to burn Liam, and when he reaches out his other hand, Liam takes that too. Slowly, as they look from their joined hands up to each other’s faces, the quakes ease off and Zayn can think again. It only takes a second for the flames to subside after that.

“Wow.” Zayn shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we –”

“I know. Like that was bloody scary but to be fair, we turned it off right quick as soon as we…”

“When we were touching again. Maybe 'cause it like, helped us focus our powers?”

Liam lets out a soft, shaky laugh. “Really wish these things had come with a manual.”

Zayn wraps his arms around Liam, feels the solid weight of him against his body, and sighs into the crook of his neck. “We’d probably better call the others.”

He can feel it when Liam nods. Their heartbeats are racing together, like horses galloping neck and neck. He holds on tighter, and Liam holds him back.

***

Liam feels terrible about losing control and setting Zayn off as well. It seems like maybe stress or fear brings it out in Zayn, while his own powers seem to turn on – well, when he’s turned on, but he’s somewhat embarrassed that it happened while they were only kissing, since he’s managed to keep his focus during even sexier situations.

As it turns out, they don’t have to call the lads because their phones start buzzing before they even move out of their embrace. Liam gets to his first, holding it so both of them can read the incoming messages.

Harry: “Was that you, Liam? Could feel it up here. I accidentally set off the hose in the garden, nearly flooded.”

Louis: “U too ? Felt it here, had a windstorm in the flat but got it under control.”

Niall: “Yea definitely felt it. Physically and in me head, all of you. Everyone ok?”

Liam types: “Me n zayn are ok now. Was scary for a bit.”

Zayn pulls out his own phone and adds: “Human torch again :( dunno how we set you all off though, weird…”

“It is weird,” Liam agrees, out loud.

Zayn’s brow furrows in concentration. “Hang on, do you think it could be like, Niall? 'cause he said he could feel all of us, that could be something.”

Liam quickly adds to the conversation: “niall wen did u feel us n what did u feel.”

Niall: “As soon as I felt t earthquake. Scared, confused, powerful.”

Zayn: “Did u try to reach out or just feel it come in?”

He can Niall typing for a while, and then it stops before he starts up again, like maybe he deleted what he’d written before trying again.

Niall: “Dunno how to describe but felt like something opened up ? like a 2way connection but too much coming in, couldn’t push out as much as I wanted. felt it when u and zayn turned it off.”

Louis: “THIS IS MENTAL !!! we have to meet ASAP.”

Harry: “My place, first thing tmw? Like 8am?”

Liam: “yesssss.”

Zayn: “Ok.”

Niall: “Sounds good t me.”

Louis: “Too bloody early but alright, this IS urgent.”

Harry: “See you then. Everyone try to remain calm.”

Louis: “That means no more funny business for L&Z haha !”

Zayn: “Wasn’t like that, perv. Not tonight anyway :)”

Liam: “Gnite everybody.”

There’s an awkward moment after they stop texting, the two of them still stood in Zayn’s kitchen with tea that’s surely gone cold.

Zayn follows his gaze. “We can zap them in the microwave and take them to my room.”

He nods and Zayn heats up both mugs, reaching for Liam’s hand as they walk to the bedroom. Liam firmly folds their fingers together, because they both need it. After all they’ve been through, touching Zayn still feels like a comfort. He thinks it would anyway, if they’d got into a relationship by normal means. He’s not sure what normal even means anymore, or what other circumstances could have brought him and Zayn together, so maybe it’s just wishful thinking but he feels like he would have known, somehow, that Zayn was special no matter how and where they’d met.

“You okay, babe?” Zayn asks, sitting down on the bed.

Liam looks at him, his cheekbones limned with gold in the lamplight, his eyes bright and lovely, framed by those long lashes.

“I was just thinking,” he says, feeling humbled by the gentleness of Zayn’s gaze and the way their hands are still anchored together. Zayn is amazing, and he’s just boring Liam from Wolverhampton. “It’s been mental. Still is, to be fair. But I’m glad I’ve got you. I’m glad that it’s been me and you from the start.”

And he is so, so lucky, because he gets to watch Zayn’s face open up, wearing his heart on his sleeve like no one’s ever done for Liam before.

“I’m glad it’s me and you too, Liam.” His name still sounds sweeter in Zayn’s mouth than it does anywhere else.

He lowers himself onto the bed and slowly presses Zayn down on his back. They’re both smiling when their lips meet, and this time Liam doesn’t forget to think about the earth, solid and unmoving beneath them.

***

Eight the next morning sees them walking up to Harry’s house in Belsize Park. The weather’s strange: muggy and grey, with wan sunlight filtering through the clouds. Harry hugs them both as he lets them inside, the house bigger than Zayn remembered it but somehow just as cosy. Harry’s wearing shorts without a shirt, still sleep-warm and slightly unfocused. Niall pops out of the guest toilet moments later, greeting them with more hugs. He’s far more alert, energetic even though he looks sleepy too, and it kicks the energy in the room up a notch. Zayn’s not sure if that’s his powers or just Niall.

“Just waiting on Tommo now,” Niall says, taking off his snapback and running a hand through his soft, flattened blond hair.

“Can’t believe we got here first even with how slow this one is in the mornings,” Liam jokes.

Zayn’s eyebrows come up, the corner of his mouth twitching at the easy, fond teasing. He’s watched Liam relax in increments, every day a little more comfortable with him, with their friends. It’s impressive, when he stops to think about it, how quickly Liam’s gone from being skittish and closed off to this smiling boy beside him, one large hand resting at the dip of Zayn’s back like it belongs there.

The doorbell rings, announcing Louis’ arrival.

“Ah, shit. Am I last again?” Louis pulls a face, seeing all of them in the front hall when he gets in. “Well, I’m here now, so you can all relax.”

Weirdly enough, Zayn does feel more relaxed now that all five of them have gathered, like the last piece of the puzzle has slotted into place. At the same time, there’s an expectant buzz in the air, the sense that they’re all waiting for something to happen. They shuffle into the kitchen, gathering around the breakfast nook.

“There’s something in the air, isn’t there?” Harry says, voicing Zayn’s feelings. “Like the calm before a storm.”

“Yeah, there’s definitely something. I can feel all of your energy really strongly right now, d’you know what I mean? Not like when I focus on your emotions but just like you all are really… present.” Niall looks around at them, thoughtful and unsmiling.

Liam pats at Niall’s shoulder, a comforting touch. “Is that what it was like last night, when our powers went off?”

“A bit, yeah. But it was more sudden then, like going straight from off to on. This is more like having your computer on but in sleep mode. Nothing’s happened yet but I can feel the potential, kind of.”

“This is all so fucking weird,” Louis says. “Why us?”

Harry replies philosophically, “I suppose we were just in the right place at the right time.”

For some reason that makes Niall laugh, and then they’re all snickering.

“Did some more research last night,” Niall adds, once the moment’s passed. “I was reading about how some scientists think we’re due for a big earthquake in the UK again – happens every century or so.”

“I saw that article. I was reading up on the ley line stuff again as well. Apparently London’s right on top of this huge underwater lake and that like, affects the energy of the city.” Harry looks out the window at the garden. “There’s got to be a connection somehow, between the mystical energy stuff and the way each of our powers is connected to the elements.”

“Niall’s isn’t an element, really,” Louis points out. “No offence, Niall. I’m just saying.”

“None taken.”

“But that’s the thing, yeah? Niall’s power is our connection to the mystical stuff,” Zayn says.

The suggestion is met with thoughtful silence.

Liam interjects, “Wait, so d’you think that I’m gonna set off another earthquake? A big one?”

Zayn suddenly notices how Liam’s gone tense next to him. He shuffles closer and squeezes his hip, and Liam relaxes by increments, but his face is still lined with worry.

“I dunno, it’s almost like our powers are about stopping things as well as starting them,” Harry says. “We all feel like there’s something coming, right?”

Zayn looks around the group, everyone nodding in turn.

“You think something’s coming and we’re supposed to stop it?” Louis says, still sounding sceptical.

“Maybe. Look how doom and gloom it is out there.” Harry points out at the garden.

The sky is still grey, but it’s tinged with red – it looks like sunset, instead of a quarter to nine in the morning. Zayn can feel the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up. He can’t explain it but he knows Harry is right: something is about to happen, and soon. All they can do is wait and see what it is.

***

Liam’s been on edge ever since Niall mentioned the possibility of a big earthquake. He can’t stop thinking about it, about how he could be responsible for stopping it from spreading. He thinks about the devastating damage it could cause, the earth cracking and buildings shaking, all the way from here down to Baker Street, Westminster, all the way east to Liverpool Street, west past Paddington Station. Until he developed this weird power, he’d never experienced an earthquake in his life, had only seen them in films and on television. He’s not prepared enough, he thinks. He’s not sure he can do it.

There’s a gentle pressure at the scruff of his neck, Zayn’s hand squeezing there like he’s trying to wring the tension out of Liam’s shoulders.

“Breathe,” Zayn murmurs, quiet and only meant for him to hear.

Niall catches Liam’s gaze across the table, a tiny flicker of concern passing across his face before he seems to decide Zayn has it under control. Harry and Louis are talking about English folklore or something – Liam hears something about Stonehenge as he follows Zayn’s instruction, breathing slow and deep.

“It’s not just you. We’re all here, we’re in it together.” Zayn keeps rubbing the nape of Liam’s neck, and he lets his head drop forward. “It’s on all of us to stop whatever’s coming, not just you.”

He nods, closing his eyes for a moment before he shakes himself off, sitting up and straightening his shoulders. “Yeah, thanks.”

“We were just saying,” Louis says, pointedly catching Liam’s attention when he looks up, “that we should practise using the connection with Niall.”

Niall knocks his hand against the brim of his snapback, pushing it back from his forehead. “Still dunno what you want me to do, though.”

“I just think we should try. See if we can all consciously manipulate our powers while Niall’s reaching out to us.”

It sounds like nonsense, but everything about this situation sounds insane on paper. Liam has no idea what he’s doing, and he’s open to trying whatever it is the boys think they should try, as long as they do it as a group.

Harry suggests that they all sit in the garden, so that they don’t accidentally set anything on fire or send a tornado through his family’s living room. They end up sitting in a circle on the paved pathway, their knees touching in a way that reminds Liam of the games he used to play in his reception class.

“Maybe Niall should sit in the middle, like the farmer in the den,” Louis suggests, a twinkle in his eye like he might be joking.

“Is it den or dell?” Harry asks. “I think I’ve heard it both ways.”

Niall shakes his head. “I don’t think it matters, to be honest. If I could feel all of you from all ‘round North London, I can probably feel you from here.”

Liam looks up at the sky again, at the ominous red colour and the thick gathering of clouds. It looks like it might rain again, but at the same time the air feels too still for a storm, no wind to speak of at all.

“Alright,” Niall says. “Everyone focus on their power, I guess? I’ll try to tap into each of you in turn.”

That seems easy enough: Liam sets his attention to the earth the way he does when he’s kissing Zayn, on keeping everything very calm and still. He feels Zayn’s hand nudge his own on his knee, their fingers lacing together, and then he turns his head and sees Harry reaching for his hand on the other side. There’s something instinctive about them all linking hands, completing the circle. He feels very grounded, which is exactly what he needs, to be solid and unmoving.

Niall squeezes Harry’s other hand, and it’s clear where his attention is. Harry’s expression is so focused that he almost looks angry, but nothing happens. On Niall’s right side, Louis twitches slightly as Niall moves his attention to him, and this time the wind picks up suddenly, a slow draught drifting around the group. Niall looks across the circle at Zayn, and Liam can feel the warmth in Zayn’s palm but it doesn’t grow any hotter than that. He looks at Liam last, and Liam holds his gaze, holds everything steady. They’re all so wrapped up in the circle and in each other that they don’t notice the rumbling at first, until it’s loud and close, practically on top of them.

“Is that thunder?” Louis asks.

“Didn’t see any lightning,” Zayn replies, looking up at the sky.

The sound grows louder, and Liam’s grip tightens on both Zayn’s and Harry’s hands. They’re all looking up, waiting to see a flash of light, so none of them are expecting it when they feel the earth shake beneath them instead. Liam looks down and watches the split appear, running from where they’re seated all the way to the stone fountain in the middle of the garden. It looks like something out of a disaster movie: in one slow-motion instant, the ground drops away and there’s a yawning chasm where the fountain used to be. He can’t believe his eyes.

“Fuck!” Niall yells. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” Harry responds, awestruck.

They’re frozen in place, hand in hand and staring at the hole in the ground, until a stream of water jets out, as if the crack in the earth might have pierced the pipe hooked up to the fountain. Everything is still shuddering, much worse than before, too big for Liam to possibly control.

“Oh shit,” someone says – Louis or Niall; the rumbling of the earth is so loud that Liam can’t hear nuances of accent and tone.

“Did we do that?” Zayn asks, looking frantically around the circle. “Are we doing that?”

Before anyone has a chance to answer him, the water start bubbling like a geyser, steaming as it hits the relatively cool air at the surface. Liam feels a sharp pang of fear, the rumbling of the earth and the hiss of steam competing with the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Everyone focus,” Harry says, more desperate than commanding, but they all listen.

Liam thinks about the earth, about the pressure underneath. He thinks about the shuddering calm that comes after he’s stopped the ground from shaking while he’s kissing Zayn. The wind picks up around them, swirling madly, and Liam casts a glance at Louis, who looks like he’s struggling to focus. He follows Harry’s gaze to the stream of water, which is turning cloudy and dark, steam giving way to smoke and ash. Zayn pulls at his attention then, and Liam just knows somehow that the heat inside the earth is pushing its way to the surface, that it’s going to take both of them to push it back down. The ground rumbles, and then the sky splits in a flash of brightness, and he feels someone – Niall – urging them to shut their eyes.

Even through his eyelids, Liam can sense the lightning striking nearby, the crackling electricity jarring him down to his bones. He sends his energy to Niall instead of straight to the earth, and it’s like something unlocks, power flowing through them both. The floodgates are open now, each of them pushing their power towards Niall, who’s like a beating heart at the centre, taking everything they give him and radiating it out in all directions. He can feel each of them, their powers stacking as if they’re putting their hands on top of each other in the middle of a huddle. Once they’re all connected, it’s an indescribable, all-consuming rush. And then it’s over.

The earth is quiet, healed over where the fountain used to be. There’s no more superheated water, no ash and brimstone, no twisting wind, just a gentle rain falling on all of them. When Harry tries to wave it away, nothing happens.

“Is that it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, croaky like he’s been silent for hours instead of minutes. His ears are ringing, his skin still tingling with leftover energy.

Niall starts laughing, on the knife’s edge of hysteria, and it’s like he breaks the seal, all the built up emotion leaking out everywhere. It’s different from before, the connection between all of them cut off. He almost misses it, the way he almost missed the bond with Zayn when it first went away. At the same time, he’s relieved, because if that’s gone then maybe the whole earth-shaking thing is gone too.

“It’s over,” Harry says, and no one questions it.

It _feels_ like it’s over, like having motion sickness and then adjusting to being still again. They let go of each other’s hands, looking at the spot in Harry’s garden that’s the only lasting proof of what they’ve just been through, the jagged edges where the stone has knitted together imperfectly, the missing fountain.

“Come on then,” Louis says, in a bossy older sibling voice. It’s still raining, and they ought to get inside.

“I suppose we’ve come full circle,” Harry says, once he’s shut the door and they’re all dripping onto the kitchen tiles. “This is kind of how it started, isn’t it?”

“Rain’s tapering off already,” Zayn observes. “I think whatever just happened like… released the pressure that was building up, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s what it felt like to me,” Niall agrees.

Louis stares out at the rain, which has turned into more of a fine mist now. “So we’re done then? We saved London, everybody go home now.”

“It’s done. But we don’t have to be done,” Liam says, with a conviction he didn’t expect to hear in his own voice.

“That’s right,” Harry says. “We’re still linked together even if the powers are gone. No one else knows what we’ve done, what we’ve experienced.”

“Yeah, alright.” The glimmer of a smile passes across Louis’ sharp features.

Liam looks over at Zayn, his face mirroring the combination of relief and exhaustion that Liam feels.

“So do you think everything’s just gonna go back to normal now?” Niall asks. “No more powers, no more freaky lightning?”

“Don’t think Harold will ever be normal,” Louis says, smirking.

Harry shrugs and offers some meandering response. Liam tunes out his words, moving closer to Zayn.

“Me and you, yeah?” He reaches out his hand and Zayn takes it – not because they have to, not because they’re in any danger, but simply because they want to.

***

_Six months later_

December in Bradford is miserable, the city’s industrial Northern greyness made even more grim by cold and damp. His parents’ house is warm, though, and filled with family. Safaa and his younger cousins are constantly underfoot, half of them having fallen in love with Liam at first sight. Zayn’s watching his mum take one last batch of chicken tikkas out of the oven, part of the endless supply of treats she’s been churning out all evening. It’s a quarter to midnight, and he’s surprised there’s anyone left standing instead of passed out in a food coma.

He pokes his head out of the kitchen and sees Liam sat on the sofa, talking to one of his aunties with little Shariq on his knee. He looks slightly overwhelmed, and Zayn understands the feeling: Christmas at the Paynes didn’t involve quite so many people, but Zayn had still been absolutely bricking it. Now it’s Liam’s turn, and he’s got everyone wrapped around his finger in a way he never would’ve imagined from the shy, awkward boy he first met at the bus stop in Hampstead.

Liam catches him looking and smiles, both eyes closing when he tries to wink. Zayn really wants to steal him away for a few minutes before the countdown, but his mum hands him a platter of snacks to put out, and by the time he’s done as he’s told and loaded up plates for two of his baby cousins, they’re showing the crowds gathered at the South Bank for the fireworks display.

Zayn sidles up to the sofa and sits down on the arm, his knee gently nudging the back of Liam’s shoulder. Liam turns to look up at him, reaching back a hand for Zayn to take, their fingers slotting together as the excitement in the room ramps up. As everyone around them count back from ten, Zayn hunches down so he can reach Liam’s mouth, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. The fireworks are loud as thunder, both on the TV and outside, in the neighbourhood, but the earth doesn’t shake beneath them.

“Happy New Year,” Liam says, his face still close and his lower lip shiny where Zayn licked it as they parted.

“Happy New Year, babe,” he replies, just as both their mobiles start buzzing.

He slides down into Liam’s lap, recently vacated by Shariq, and Liam hooks his chin over Zayn’s shoulder when he unlocks his phone. The group chat they have with the other lads is blowing up, messages from Niall, Louis, and Harry coming through in quick succession.

He types out, “Happy 2015 xxL&Z” and throws in a few celebratory emojis before he puts his mobile back in his pocket and puts a hand on the arm Liam’s wrapped around his middle. In a room full of people and noise, they’ve managed to carve out a quiet moment for themselves.

“Bit of a strange year, wasn’t it?” Liam says, his voice low and sweet in Zayn’s ear.

“It was quite strange, but I ain’t got too many complaints.”

Liam’s laugh rumbles through his chest, against Zayn’s back. “Yeah, we got a pretty sweet deal in the end. But what’s that thing they say… Begin as you mean to start?”

Zayn stands up and tugs Liam to his feet. “Begin as you mean to go on. So maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private, then.”

The mischief in Liam’s grin looks good on him, and he slings his arm around Zayn’s shoulders as they sneak out of the family room and upstairs to Zayn’s bedroom. They’re both laughing by time they get out of all their clothes, limbs gone clumsy with impatience, and the last coherent sentence Liam manages is, “I really love you, Zayn.”

Zayn kisses the birthmark at Liam’s throat and replies, “Yeah, well, I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come find me on [Tumblr](http://1dspoon.tumblr.com/) if you like.


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